


The Circle Of Life

by Lansfics7



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ALL THE FRIENDSHIPS, Adjusting, Adoption, And the origin story, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers Family, BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Tony Stark, Battle of New York (Marvel), Death, Emotional pain, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I mean it, Irondad, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kid Peter Parker, Lion King (1994) References, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Nightmares, POV Loki (Marvel), Pain, Parent Pepper Potts, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter and MJ are adorable, Pre-Spider Bite Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Dad, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Protectiveness, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sarcasm, Sass, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Yes we're going through the beginning, anyway, bio kid, but i dont give him one, fluff first, id make millions, im sorry, istg i should make my own tissues, its super happy at first I swear, not just references, obviously, scared of the dark, spiderson, then it just WHAM hits you, theyre all good bros, youll thank me later for those
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 88,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28321713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lansfics7/pseuds/Lansfics7
Summary: ****Co-written with Stiltsrosko!Peter idolizes his father, Tony Stark, and takes to heart his own destiny in Stark Industries, following his father's footsteps. But not everyone celebrates the new son's arrival. Obadiah, Tony's best friend -- and former owner of the company -- has plans of his own. In the midst of the MCU as we know it, the battle for justice is ravaged with betrayal, loss, laughs, and battles, ultimately resulting in Peter leaving his home, for what he thinks is forever. But with help of friends and newfound powers, Peter must grow up and take back what is rightfully his, and what family truly means.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 213
Kudos: 129





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stiltsrosko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiltsrosko/gifts).



> So full disclaimer: the credit for this fic goes to my friend Stiltsrosko! They told me about the story and i of course immediately fell in love with the plot and we collaborated on it! They wrote the first couple chapters while I editied (they are a certified genius and an incredible writer) and then they unfortunately were not able to continue with the story. So they passed me the reins and I am honored to take the challenge! SO FULL CREDIT GOES TO STILTSROSKO for this literal masterpiece...I am just trying to do their vision justice :) and i rly hope I do because this is seriously incredible!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: HAPPY NEW YEARRRRRRRRRRR!  
> 2: Did I just look up the summary for Disney's Lion King and change it to a Marvel vibe yes yes I did >:)  
> HELLO EVERYBODYYYYYYY MY LOVELY READERS LOOK WHO IT ISSS  
> Oh my GOD its good to be back!! It's been far to long, and i rly hope most of ya stuck around for the long haul with me welcome back if you did and welcome if you have no idea who the heck I am and just know I am so grateful you are reading. We are starting off 2021 with what i hope is going to be an amazing fic, please read the note up there^^ because this idea is not mine it is my dear friends and i am going to try my best and make this as close to everything they wanted it to be! So fingers crossed lets gooo.  
> Wow im hyper. Yes! We're back to getting no sleep, we're back to crazy amount of coffee, we're back to 1 am writing, we're back to possibly getting my own tissue brand because get ready for years of happiness and sadness alike, and we're hopefully back to a crazy comments section that was so freaking awesome in the past- I love hearing from yall!! I am very excited for this fic, excited for the new year, and I love every single one of you.  
> Read on!!

Tony was pretty sure he was going bald. Maybe it was his fault; he did keep yanking at his hair over and over again without pausing. Yeah, it was his fault. He knew he should stop, or at least stop complaining about it but it had become more than just a nervous tic and a bad habit, it became normal.

He was just so scared for Pepper and…

…and…

…the baby.

It felt weird just calling it ‘the baby’, but Pepper hadn’t wanted to know the gender and Tony hadn’t had the guts to argue; hormonal Pepper was terrifying. ‘The baby’ was due in less than a month. The nursery was ready (a direct offshoot of their own room) and stocked to the brim with diapers, because Tony heard you could never have enough. They’d attended several Lamaze classes, (Tony unwillingly) and read as many books as Jarvis could find on the topic of being prepared for parenthood. Yet ironically, Tony felt anything but prepared. In fact, he felt the farthest thing from it. The whole situation was becoming real, and that was...well, there was no good word for it. Tony was going to be a father and his mind was being overwhelmed by the many ways that this whole thing could go horribly sideways.

What if something went wrong? What if there were complications? What if he lost one of them? What if he lost _both_ of them? What if…? 

What if his kid didn’t like him? 

That question segwayed into the worst one: what if he was just as bad of a father as Howard?

Howard, the man who never said he loved him, never said he even liked him. Who made Tony flinch whenever he raised his voice or his hand. That had never shown any kindness that a father should to him, constantly pushing him at a young age, not even allowing him to have a childhood. Tony had grown up far too fast. 

At the moment, all of these questions were crashing around inside Tony’s brain giving him the seventh migraine of the day. Luckily, Pepper, being the amazing, incredible, fantastic, suspected psychic that she was, chose that moment to enter their room and sit down on the bed next to him. He felt his shoulders relax immediately. She huffed out a sigh as she settled down onto the bed, rubbing her enormous stomach and her aching back while simultaneously giving him an unimpressed look. Tony took comfort in the slight bit of concern underneath that gaze that he was used to finding.

“You’re doing it again,” she smiled as she laced her fingers in his, gently pulling his hand away from his hair, and holding it firmly.

“Doing what?” he muttered instinctively, grasping her hand back as tightly as he could without hurting her, desperate for an anchor against the panic and worry.

“You know what,” she replied, bumping him with her shoulder. “Worrying. We’re going to be fine.” 

As she spoke, she guided his hand to her stomach, letting go so she could press his hand firmly against the unborn child. Tony still wouldn’t meet her eyes, instead staring blankly into the space in front of him. The tension in his body started to slip away with every passing second. His shoulders continued to lose their hunch and his other hand slowly fell limp at his side, nail marks on his palms from where he had clenched his hand into a fist on instinct. He hadn’t even known he was doing it, or felt the ache in his hand from the strain until now.

“You feel that?” she asked softly, and, as if responding to her voice, the baby kicked directly against his hand pressed to her belly. She hid a small wince as a grin broke out on Tony’s face. Both of the soon-to-be parents smiled lovingly. Tony finally turned and stared at their hands, rubbing his thumb on the back side of her palm.

“She already knows how to listen to her mother,” Tony joked softly, drawing a laugh from Pepper. "Also, she just kicked me. That means she doesn't like me. I'm 99% sure."

“We’ve been over this. It’s going to be a _boy_ , Tony,” she teased back, but she didn’t miss the small flash of fear in his eyes that he desperately tried to hide as he moved his gaze to his lap. Her concern grew and lines appeared on her forehead as her brow knit. “Hey,” with her free hand, she cupped her husband’s cheek, lifting until his eyes met hers. Her voice was gentle and comforting and she urged, “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not worried Pep,” Tony said truthfully, the mask falling from his face. He shakes his head and makes out, “I’m- I’m terrified. Terrified that if it is a boy that he’ll grow up just like I did. That I’ll turn into Howard. That I’ll…” Tony heaved a deep breath that physically hurt his lungs, so much so, that he almost clutched his chest. He finished with a lower voice, “…that I’ll mess up this kid’s life no matter what I do.”

Pepper’s face softened in sympathy and wrapped her arm around him, pressing their foreheads together while the other stayed close to their unborn child. 

“Hey,” she whispered, her hand carding through his hair, “I’m scared too. When this...got real, I was terrified. I have no idea what it means to be a mother, and it’s probably going to be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. But do you know why I’m not as scared anymore?”

“Because you’re an amazing, terrifying force of nature?” The small quip was muttered so softly it was almost unintelligible, but Pepper took it as a win. She laughed and pushed Tony, so he laid back on their bed and closed his eyes. 

Pepper stared down at him and continued weaving her fingers through his hair, “Because you just assured me that you are going to do everything in your power to make sure this kid has the best dad possible.”

Tony opened his eyes and gazed at her, melting her heart with the pure doubt and confusion in his eyes. “How can you know?” he asked in a voice only reserved for times like this.

“Because you’re parroting the words my father told my mother before I was born. And he was the best father I could have hoped for. It’s when you feel unworthy of a child that you become worthy of it,” Pepper smiled encouragingly, and the remainder of the visible stress on her husband’s face fell away. She knew there was still more beneath the surface but she would take the small victory.

Tony broke the silence with a troublemaker smile that she had fallen in love with. “You rehearse that?” he joked. 

Pepper smirked, “Yes, yes I did. It had a nice ring to it, I thought.”

"It really did. I should have you read all my speeches. You'd be really good," he turned to her, glancing up from the bed.

"You'd be great too if you just stuck to the cards," she sighed, patting his shoulder lightly.

Tony makes a face and shifts to look at her, "I never stick to the cards- what's wrong with that? They're suggestions. Guidelines. Don't have to follow them."

"Yes, because you're a rebel," she smirked before raising an eyebrow and announcing with a teasing look, "That's gonna come back to bite you one day. Mark my words, I just know it."

"Don't bash improvisation," Tony gasped, scrunching his nose as he shifted his seat on the bed to straighten. "Going with your gut is the best decision, there's nothing wrong with guessing."

"Says the MIT graduate," she rolled her eyes, pushing his shoulder in mockery and he caught her hand in his, staring up at the ceiling. Tony’s smile broke into a wide one and they both chuckled to themselves before the mood sobered again.

Then Tony shook his head and admitted quietly, “I’m not ready Pep.” 

“If you thought you were, I’d be concerned,” she teased. “Nobody’s every ready for their first kid. We’re just going to have to figure it out as we go. Do a little experimenting.”

Tony grimaced, lifting his chin guiltily from his position on his back. “You know that me ‘experimenting’ usually ends with things blowing up,” he said sheepishly.

Pepper snorted, “That’s in your lab. I don’t think our little guy is going to be capable of that. Not yet at least. But I’m sure he’ll take after his father and be setting things on fire in no time.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile at the thought of that. He sighed, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face before turning back to her, gesturing at the packed suitcase by the door. There was one more thing he wanted to make clear. “Are you sure you don’t mind me going to Afghanistan?” he asked seriously, sitting up on his elbows. “You’re so close to being due, and I don’t want to leave you alone. I mean it Pep, one word and I will call the whole thing off.”

Pepper smiled at his thoughtfulness, but shook her head, kissing him on the cheek. “You know what Obadiah would say about that. Besides, you need to be there for the weapons demonstration. Nobody knows the Jericho like you, and if something goes wrong you have to be onsite to fix it. It wouldn’t look very good to the US government if their number one weapons manufacturer tried to sell them a defunct missile.”

Tony’s face fell and he nodded, scratching his neck in defeat. “You’re right. I wish you weren’t,” he added quickly, before sighing out the last three words, “but you are.” 

Planting a smile on his face, he brought his mouth close to her stomach and whispered, “Wait until Dad gets back, okay kid? I don’t want to miss a single moment of your amazing life. And take care of your mom.” He got a small kick in response, and Pepper grinned with pride as she watched the love of her life interact with their child. She couldn’t wait to be a mom.

* * *

Tony left for Afghanistan two days later.

He didn’t come back.

Pepper went into labor exactly on schedule, but unprepared without Tony by her side. Nights of worry made for no sleep; no book had prepared her for this situation. When her water broke, she cried. She was going to have to have her baby without her husband to welcome their child into the world. Rhodey had arrived home from Afghanistan two days earlier for support, taking a break from the search for his best friend. He sat with her the whole time, holding her hand. Pepper was glad he was here, though she nearly broke his hand. She was determined to deliver this baby so they could meet their dad when he came home. Because he would come home. 

Pepper wouldn’t allow herself to think otherwise.

The birth lasted twelve hours, and when it was finally over, Pepper was exhausted. But none of that mattered when she heard the bawling of an infant after one final push. Turns out, she was right. It was a boy. The little guy was wrapped in a hot rod red blanket and gently placed in her arms. 

As she stared in wonder at the perfect child, the tears started again. There was a small lock of dark hair on his head, and when he opened his eyes...Rhodey was crying now too from his place next to her; her son’s eyes were identical to Tony’s.

The shape, the color, even the curious glint Tony got whenever he started a new project.

She pulled the boy close to her chest and cried in joy and sorrow. Joy for her son, and sorrow for his father.

After a few minutes, she offered the baby to Rhodey, who looked at her in shock. “Pepper…” he stuttered, unsure, as if he didn’t want to break the precious infant.

“Go on, Rhodey,” she encouraged, not missing a beat. “Go ahead and hold your nephew,” she said with a smile.

Rhodey lifted the boy from her arms as carefully as he could, eyes trained on him like he was the most precious thing he had ever been given, holding him as if he were made of glass. A sense of loss filled her when he left her arms, but it was worth it to see Rhodey’s face mimic hers. He gave a watery smile as the baby gave a little cry at being moved, but soon settled in. 

“Hey kid,” he whispered, gently rocking the baby back and forth.

Happy entered the room a minute later from where he had been standing guard outside. His smile was one of the biggest Pepper had ever seen on him, but like hers, it was tinged with sadness, knowing that Tony should be here. The bodyguard walked over to Rhodey and waited patiently to hold the newest Stark.

A nurse approached from the opposite side of the bed, and softly asked, “Do you have a name picked out yet?”

Without taking her eyes off of the three boys, especially her baby, she nodded definitively.

“Peter.” 

Rhodey and Happy looked up in surprise when they heard the name, and then nodded in approval. The nurse gave a kind smile. But Pepper wasn’t done. 

“Peter Anthony Stark.”

New tears threatened to fall, but they managed to hold them back, instead choosing to look at the fragile child as he was returned to his mother’s arms. Peter Anthony Stark soon fell asleep against his mother’s chest, and she smiled in contentment. Tony’s disappearance had left a hole in her heart, but one that little Peter already seemed determined to fill.

* * *

Tony Stark sat and stared at the wall that he’d just scratched a tally on with a screwdriver. He pulled his threadbare blanket tighter around himself as he stared at the twenty-three tallies on the wall in front of him. This place had taught him what pain really was. He had been waterboarded more times than he could count, electrocuted, beaten to the point where he could barely breathe but little did they know, the torture he had been through was nothing compared to staring at the scratch on the wall. 

His hand was shaking and Tony took a shaky breath, tears building in his eyes as he ran a hand over his face and nervously curled a hand in his hair, yanking subconsciously

“Why so sad, Stark?” Yinsen called from behind him, where he was heating up their dinner of dry rice and old beans. “You should be glad you’re here and not suffering through our hosts’ persuasive techniques." Tony had been subject to a lot of that lately, and where other man might have broken, Stark did not. "And in just a couple months, our escape will be ready," he finished quietly, trying to ease hope into the man.

Tony sighed and moved to sit next to Yinsen as he handed him a bowl. He pushed around the content inside before grunting and tossing it down, scattering its contents.

His fellow prisoner gave him an unimpressed look, muttering, “It may not be what you’re used to Stark, but it’s still sustenance. You should eat.” 

That sentence was more telling that one could let on. Yinsen still did not know Tony as well as he thought. He was being egotistical, right? Not wanting to eat the stale and bland food they had been given? Used to eggs Benedict given to him on a silver platter? That’s what Yinsen thought the cause of the outburst was. It was evident that’s what he thought solely from his tone. 

Tony recognized his tone, used by many others. They all couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

“It’s August 10th ,” was Tony’s only reply, his voice cracking as he stared straight ahead in disbelief.

Yinsen raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking around his head as if trying to remember what that meant. Eventually he gave up. “Should I know the significance of this date?” he asked cautiously, sensing that it was a tender subject. He had never seen this kind of look on the man’s face, even after all he had been through. The man looked like he had been...broken, something that not even the Ten Rings had been able to accomplish.

Tony shook his head, stood, and walked across the room on wobbling legs. He sat down on the thin cot, his face slack and emotionless. It was shock, he figured. Like how a man pinned under a bus keeps it together somehow. 

Suddenly realizing Yinsen had asked a question and he hadn’t answered it, he nearly left it as such, but a twinge of pain from his chest reminded him of what the doctor had done for him. He deserved an answer.

When Stark spoke, he didn’t recognize his own voice, worn down with pain and sadness. “My wife’s due to deliver our kid today,” he said shortly, before laying down and rolling over to face the cave wall, refusing to let Yinsen see the single tear leaking from his closed eyes.

Yinsen looked up with sympathy for the younger man all over his face. As a father himself, he understood keenly the pain Stark was going through and his eyes softened as he gazed at the man’s back. He’d thought Tony was nothing more than the arrogant persona that he put on whenever there was a camera nearby, but now the mask was starting to slip. 

He whispered softly enough that Stark could hear him if he wanted to, “I promise you Stark...we will both see our children soon.”

Later, Tony would be on the verge of tears remembering those words. 

* * *

The months had gone by slower than Tony had imagined they would. Partially because he knew that every day he spent here, his child was at home, growing up without him. 

But now he felt a new ache in his chest, and it transferred to the look in his eyes as he ran in the clinky suit and dropped to his knees in a panic. The shiny new arc reactor glowing brightly through the breastplate, and Tony leaned over Yinsen’s bleeding form. He reached up and clumsily flipped open his helmet so he could see the man whose breath was weak and rattled, a trickle of red coming from his mouth and head. A glance at his abdomen proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the man wasn’t making it out of here, but Tony didn’t want to believe it. Not after everything they had been through together, not after the promises they had made. 

“Come on, Yin, we’ve gotta get out of here,” he spluttered, trying to instill energy in the dying man. “Your family’s waiting for you right? You can’t let them down,” he pleaded, desperately trying to persuade the man to keep fighting, to give him something to live for. 

The doctor’s soft voice was peaceful and unafraid, a sad smile adorning his face. He looked at Tony with something that was terrifyingly like pity. “I’m going to see them now, Stark,” he told him sadly. 

The sentence chilled Tony to the bone as he realized the truth and he stared in horror and denial. Yinsen’s wife, his children, all dead because of his weapons and the bastard terrorists that held them here. He had never planned on getting out. Yinsen had hinted to his death long before, and Tony had not realized it.

The younger man’s eyes widened and he shook his head, pursing his lips before his jaw unlocked and he lowered his head. Tony weakly raised his chin to catch Yinsen’s final words, staring in desperation and disbelief.

“It’s too late for my family, but it’s not too late for yours. Get home. Savor every moment with them. Every. Second. Don’t waste this chance. Don’t waste your life, Stark.”

Tony nodded, unable to speak through the lump in his throat. Yinsen gave him one last smile of content and closed his eyes.

Gunfire from the mouth of the cave echoed around him, and Tony straightened, flipping his faceplate down, fury coursing through him. The next few minutes were dominated by a haze of red. His heart was pounding through the armor, or maybe that was the bullets bouncing off them. He set the world on fire around him, teeth clenched, tears of anger streaming hot lines of fire down his cheeks. High on adrenaline, Tony spun, his movements seeming like he had trained for this moment since he was born. 

And then Tony realized he needed to stop. 

He needed to get home. 

There was nothing left for him here. There never was anything for him here. Just a lesson on how valuable one’s life was, and there was someone of great value waiting for him on the other side of the world. 

As soon as he’d caused as much damage as possible, he activated his thrusters, and shot off into the sky, eyes narrowed with determination. His heart was surrounded by iron and heated red, something that would never go away.

* * *

Rhodey stepped off of the helicopter, disbelieving yet furiously hopeful eyes focused on the figure not twenty-five meters away. A glimpse underneath the makeshift hood and he was sprinting towards his friend, a radiant smile growing on his face. When he was close enough he dove into the sand, cupping Tony’s face while laughing in delight. A quip or two was exchanged, but Rhodey was so relieved he wasn’t sure what he said until he hugged his friend, both men on their knees.

As they clutched each other desperately, the colonel tucked Tony’s head to his shoulder, bringing his hand up to clasp the back of the hood and whisper one sentence.

“His name is Peter.” 

No other words were needed. He felt his friend stiffen at his words and pull backward to meet his eyes, the man’s gaze so full of pain, desperate to absorb truth that shone in Rhodey’s gaze. He fell towards him, his forehead hitting Rhodey’s chest before a small laugh of pure joy escaped the billionaire’s mouth. 

He had a son. 

He had a son named Peter.

* * *

They were on a plane back to the States as soon as Tony wasn’t in danger of collapsing from exhaustion, dehydration or pain. Even then, the doctors would have kept him for longer if not for the terrifying drive of a new father who wants to see his son, and the fact that Tony Stark had not changed a bit. Rhodey saw most of the same thing he always did, the mask put up to hide emotions he didn’t want people seeing, but this time there was pain dripping from his voice, a look of horror deep in his eyes. Luckily, the hope was piling on top of it to the point where Rhodey couldn’t make it out. The eventual agreement with the doctors was that they let him go on the condition that he would be checked again once they arrived in the US.

Rhodey sat next to his brother in all but blood, ready to answer any questions, but the man was silent, which was telling. Tony just sat there, staring out at the ocean below them, watching for land to appear underneath them, leg shaking slightly, foot tapping on the floor. When Rhodey asked about Afghanistan, he stayed rather conservative, faking a smile and tossing around some sarcasm. When Rhodey asked if he wanted to know more about Peter, Tony just shook his head. 

“I just want to see him for myself,” was the only answer he’d give when pressed.

They finally landed in Malibu, and Tony moved to the exit ramp so fast Rhodey lost track of him for a second. The colonel quickly moved to stand next to the man, giving him some support. A wheelchair was offered, but it was dismissed as soon as the ramp began to lower, and the fiery red hair of his wife was visible.

As soon as he could, Tony was running to Pepper and the tiny bundle in her arms, injuries forgotten, desperate to close the gap forged by months apart. He mumbled her name once, and it practically came out in a whimper before he shouted it at the top of his lungs.

She met him in the middle, and the couple embraced, tears pouring down both of their faces as they pressed their lips together. Happy and Rhodey both watched with smiles on their faces as they walked more slowly towards the two from opposite sides of the tarmac.

Tony was not a crier. He never had been. He supposed he could thank his father for the hard lesson: _Stark men are made of iron._

He had since lived by that the first time he had gone to his father with a hurt finger, which Howard promptly dismissed. Turns out, Tony had broken it in two places, but never got it set because of the man’s dismissal. It was still crooked to this day, and those same eyes were rarely to never, filled with tears. The man hadn’t shed a tear since he was in the cave with Yinsen when he’d realized it was his son’s due date. Not through the torture, not through the pain in his chest, not through the horrors he had seen. He couldn’t. 

But now he was.

Even after his rescue, he’d been in a state of almost complete numbness and disbelief, as if his mind couldn’t comprehend the fact that it was actually safe and there was no more danger. Now though, holding his wife and newborn son in his arms, he almost couldn’t see with the tears pouring from his eyes, and they only grew worse when he pulled back slightly from the embrace and the deep kiss with the love of his life and looked at the small baby that was resting in Pepper’s arms. They had been careful not to squish him seconds ago, and now Tony’s arms were itching to hold the boy, but he hesitated. 

His hands were too bloody for this. 

He didn’t deserve this happiness when Yinsen sacrificed himself mere hours ago. 

He didn’t deserve happiness when those men and women died protecting him in the truck.

He didn’t deserve to smile after finding out that his own weapons were killing the people he promised to protect... 

He couldn’t…

Before he could spiral too far, and knowing exactly what he was thinking because she always did, Pepper carefully pressed their son into his arms, cutting off any protest Tony’s mind could formulate. He gasped softly as the weight settled, and his hands naturally arranged themselves to cradle the perfect little boy that was now grinning up at him.

“Peter,” he whispered. 

One word made a sob wrench itself from his throat along with a new flow of tears. He grinned as the boy waved his tiny hands up at him, before one rested on the glowing arc reactor in his chest, a curious look in his eye. He chuckled, hiding a flinch as the child pressed gently on it. Then Peter narrowed his eyes, his small finger aimlessly patting and tracing the glowing light, already intrigued. God he- he looked like….him. 

After a moment of gazing at his son, Tony looked back up to see his wife and friends looking at him with unbridled joy in their eyes. He smiled back at them, and asked hesitantly, “Peter Stark?”

Pepper just nodded, still crying silently, but the tears that for months had been in sadness were now in pure joy. “That’s right. Peter _Anthony_ Stark. Born on August 10th. He’ll be three months old in two weeks.”

Tony looked back down in disbelief, trying to convince himself that this wasn’t a dream and that he was actually home, with his entire word in his arms, smiling as he rubbed his hand over Peter’s small locks of hair. 

“That’s a good name,” he said quietly. “It suits him.”

In that moment, as Pepper stepped forward and latched herself to his side, likely planning to never let go, and Rhodey throwing his arm around his shoulders and Happy patting him on the back before he jogged to get the car probably so he could hide his tears, Tony knew that everything was perfect, and he savored every second of it.

* * *

Obadiah cursed loudly as he stood inside his office at Stark Industries. Tony had just landed; Potts (she’d kept her maiden name instead of Stark) and Hogan were picking him up, and his perfect plan was in shambles.

“You were supposed to kill him!” he growled into the burner phone he held to his ear. “Tony Stark should never have made it out of the God-forsaken desert alive!”

His rage finally abated slightly when the terrorist on the other end of the line mentioned what Tony had left behind in his rush to exit the base. 

“You have the suit?” he asked slowly, tongue sliding across dry lips in thought. His eyes narrowed, his brain focusing as his rage quelled at the thought of what possibilities this could present. If he could get his hands on that suit, mass-produce it…

“I don’t care what shape it’s in,” he snapped, cutting off the man on the other line. His voice came out on his own record as his brain ran the numbers, like a computer screen spewing out code line after line. “Get it to the States as fast as possible, I’ll take it as compensation for your spectacular failure.” 

With that, he hung up, and tossed the phone onto his desk in frustration, putting one hand on his lip and rubbing his chin with the other. It had all been so simple. Have Tony killed, arrange an accident for his little brat after a few years to avoid suspicion, and then take over. Potts would have been helpless to stop him. But now that the bastard had somehow managed to survive the fools, he was back to square one.

He was going to have to play the part of the benevolent advisor for just a bit longer, which made him sick to his stomach like it had for years. This had been the best opportunity he’d had in decades, and he didn’t know when the next one was going to land in his lap. He’d need to tie up some loose ends, namely the terrorists to make sure they couldn’t talk, and outsource the production of Stark’s escape method. That was probably the only good thing to come out of this scenario. OsCorp or Hammer Tech would probably be interested due to their shady pasts. Big companies were always willing to get their hands dirty, and they drooled over opportunities to be drowned in profit. When he got a hold of it…

Obadiah Stane allowed a shark-like grin to crawl over his face, his lips curling as he prepared to attend the press conference celebrating the great Tony Stark’s triumphant return. He’d bide his time; he’d play the part. Tony shouldn’t have turned his back on his ideas, or trusted him, or even shed an allied glance in his direction. The man was simply a puppet and Obadiah relished at the thought of twirling the strings in between his fingers. Tony had now given him the time and opportunity he needed. Obadiah was a lion ready to pounce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's good to be back. Once again kudos to my super talented friend who deserves all the credit in the world Stiltsrosko and i rly hope you like the first chapter because i loved it- they wrote basically the entirety and KILLED IT OMG! This is a totally different vibe than i am used to so I am just taking it and running, i cant wait to keep writing. Shorter chapters than usual but you know me they eventually all get like 11k and im like wups. ALSO IN THIS ONE PETER IS TONYS BIO KID which i have never done and will try my best to write to the best of my ability.  
> So strap in for a heck of a ride, it is great to be back to Marvel, I rly missed it, sorry it took me so long thank you for waiting if you did and welcome if you are a new reader thank you for being here! To all of you i hope you have an awesome day, get sleep even tho i think its fake but some people are telling me its not so who knows, drink coffee, and happy 2021 everybody  
> I  
> love  
> you  
> 3000  
> <3 <3 <3


	2. The Good Old Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AMAZING READERSSSSSSS  
> weve got another amazing chapter from stiltsrosko and myself :)))) Thank you all so much for commenting and for your support for this story im rly glad youre liking it!!! I really really like this chapter it was what got me hooked on this story and i added a bit that i think youll like so get ready for a tremendous crazy mix of angst and comfort and enjoy the happiness! Ive hadddd 3 cups of coffee today and they were big cups, school SUCKS i have wayyyyy too many assignments which is absolutely amazing and i rly appreciate them all very much!!! thank you teachers! So I hope you all enjoy the chapter and are having a great day and if ur not, i hope this makes it better <3

Tony didn’t think he’d ever laughed so much in his life. Nor did he ever think he would say that sentence. Tony was never the type to have a true smile on his face, or truly feel...happy. At least until his kid. 

Despite everything that had happened, like the revolutionary press conference that had shocked the world and changed the Stark family’s life, and everything that was happening now that had Tony to almost the breaking point, he found himself able to push all of that aside when his son walked in. Sure, he was now Iron Man to the public, (Pepper knew that index cards would have a major role somehow, someday), but he was still a father first. 

Peter was four now, and he was the most talkative, inquisitive, adorable child he’d ever seen. He was smart, funny, and charmed everyone who laid eyes on him. He was simply the best son anyone could have. And of course, every parent said that, so of course, he could be biased, but he didn’t care. Peter was just… perfect. He refused to think differently. He was a huge fan of the fact that his father was the famous Iron Man, and was incredibly mature for his age in understanding the risks and why he didn't really leave the tower much. Tony would never have said those words in front of that press pool if he thought that Peter couldn't handle it, but he said it, because he knew his son could. And Peter was thrilled to have a superhero as his dad. 

He had originally planned to keep it a secret that he was building the replica of the suit that had saved his life back at the cave so many years ago...and he never really told anyone about it, not even Obadiah until he officially announced it, a result of all of the sightings and rescues (and minor explosions) being traced back to him and his company one too many times. The "training exercise" excuse was getting old, so Tony decided to not let there be any more excuses and just...let the cat out of the bag. Obadiah didn't seem thrilled (even though Tony had an idea he had known the entire time) but what the hell, the man was like family to him. 

When he had decided to throw away the index cards, Tony had about one second of every pro and con thrown at him at an insane speed as he ran through all of the possibilities and promises he knew he had to adapt to. One of his own was Peter. This couldn't negatively impact their relationship, and he was determined to keep that oath he made to himself. And he did. He was spending every moment he could with his kid. He would always bear the guilt of not being there for his birth, so he did his best to make up for it every day that followed. He was thrown a curve ball in the following months. 

The man looked anxiously down at the arc reactor in his chest, resting just above his kid who was sleeping in his arms, locked in like the perfect puzzle piece. They’d been watching Lilo and Stitch before bed while Pepper took care of a few CEO responsibilities. Peter had fallen asleep in the first twenty minutes of the movie, falling against his father's shoulder. Tony carded a hand through his curls carefully, watching a bit more of the movie as his son stayed asleep. When Peter didn’t wake, Tony glanced at the clock and sat up, careful not to jostle the sleeping boy. He slipped an arm under his legs and leaned him against his chest, standing slowly. Peter’s eyes remained shut and Tony allowed himself to celebrate such a simple victory as he carried him to bed.

Opening the door with his foot, he crossed the room and set his son down in the newly acquired “big-boy bed” that Peter had helped him build. IKEA had been conquered by the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist and his son. 

"You okay, daddy?" Peter asked sleepily, his bangs falling over his eyes as he rolled over and curled up beneath a blanket.

Tony swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, bud. I'm okay. Just some...stuff going on right now, but I'm okay." It hurt to say that. It really hurt a lot to say that, but Tony poured as much honesty into his tone as he was able to, because maybe if Peter believed it, then he would believe it to. Right now, the only sliver of hope he had was his son. “It’s all gonna work out, Peter, I promise," he whispered, and the boy smiled sleepily and nodded before his head sank deeper into the pillow and he went quiet. 

Tony pulled the blanket up to his chin before he straightened, grunting in pain, clutching the sides of the bed with white knuckles. Tony pressed his lips together to not make any more sounds, swallowing down the lump of pain that seemed to be lodged in his throat. The reactor in his chest, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, was slowly killing him. And that scared him, not for his sake, but for Peter’s.

He didn’t want to miss a single second more of his kid's life, but the way things were going, he could die before the boy turned five this year. He’d done everything he could to protect his son, shielding him from the press, creating dozens of protocols for the boy’s safety, yet it all seemed inadequate if he couldn’t see himself in Peter's future.

Tony closed his eyes and tried not to think of the poison in his veins. He painfully unclenched his fingers from around the side of the bed and took a shaky breath, demanding his trembling fingers to still. The pained father sighed as he stroked his son’s hair and bent down slowly to test the result of straightening, praying he wouldn’t buckle over. 

Once he had it under control, he pressed a quick kiss on Peter’s forehead and backed out of the room slowly. As the door shut, another one opened in his mind and Tony took a breath, trying to ease his horror. He needed to find a solution. He wasn’t proud of his actions recently, but he knew it was out of desperation. It was because he was human, and the veins on his chest were just horrible reminders of that burden. His support group around him was failing, because he wasn’t telling them everything for their own good. He hoped he knew what he was doing, not for his sake, but for the child behind that door.

"God, what the hell am I doing?" Tony whispered harshly to himself. He pressed his back against his the wall next to his son’s door and reached up, carding his hands through his hair, looking down at his chest with a heaved sigh as his knees buckled. Tony stuck a hand up his shirt and ran his fingers over the black lines of poison slowly spreading through his body. 

Controlling his rapid breathing, he pulled the cloth up by the rim and examined the dark veins soaking into his skin, monitoring how much it had grown since he had checked yesterday. Or had he checked two hours ago? Two minutes? Two seconds?

Regardless, Tony was instilled with a new determination as he set his shoulders and his brow. He stormed down to the lab. Maybe there was something that he and J.A.R.V.I.S. hadn’t thought of. He planned to find out. Tony had a new reason to live. It was for the innocent boy in the room he had just left, who had been deprived of his father once. Tony would not let it happen again. 

* * *

Time passed, and Tony now found himself mimicking his last entrance into the kid’s room, just without a sleeping boy in his arms. It was much too late for Peter to be up. Tony softly closed the door behind him and approached the bed quietly. Peter had gone to sleep hours ago, so he would likely be out cold, and Tony was sore and in pain...but he needed to see his son. The past few days had been an absolute...a word that he didn't feel like even thinking in the same room as Peter, and he hadn’t had time to see his son in between the near-death experiences, courtesy of Ivan Vanko.

He had managed to keep Peter from knowing everything that had happened, at the race track, at the Expo, and everything after that. He hated keeping the kid in the dark, and the boy had been a little pissed about it, asking more questions than usual, but he eventually realized, the young genius he was, that he was being kept out for a reason. Peter stayed quiet and out of the way while the world nearly burned down around his sheltered life. 

But now it was over, and Tony had to make amends. He was no longer dying. Ivan was dead. He had saved the day again, but at a great cost, and he had nearly died and wrecked his marriage doing it. 

He knelt down by Peter’s bed with a small huff and gently stroked his soft brown curls, marveling at how he- _Tony Stark, the Merchant of Death_ \- was father to the most amazing boy he had ever met. Earlier, he’d seen a little kid stand fearlessly up to a Hammer drone. The father in him had gone full protective mode as he dove down and cracked the concrete behind the boy, firing a blast at the machine that had it’s gun trained on the kid. The boy had stumbled back, and Tony had told him a quick, “Nice work, kid,” flying off with a flicker of pride. The brave little guy had just reminded him too much of Peter, and it wasn’t hard for him to imagine his son standing there, taking on the drone. 

Between Pepper being a lot busier and not really talking to him, Rhodey’s betrayal when he stole the armor, and the government trying to take away his suits, Peter was one of the few things he relied on over the past couple months, no matter what. And he wasn’t going to let anything take his little boy away from him.

He was startled out of his relieved thoughts that all the stress was over for good when Peter stirred slightly, yawning hugely and blinking his big brown eyes open. Tony smiled softly, love filling him the way it always did when he looked at his little boy.

“Daddy?” Peter murmured, blinking tiredly, although his gaze was incredibly focused.

“Hey buddy,” Tony whispered, still running his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“S’okay,” the boy slurred, still half-asleep. He curled on his side and looked up at him. Peter announced, “Missed you.”

Tony’s heart clenched painfully at that, but he kept his smile on his face. He cupped his cheek before ruffling his hair lightly, whispering, “Yeah, I missed you too, kiddo. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” 

A dopey grin spread across Peter’s face, and he sighed, relaxing into his father’s touch. “You okay?” he said quietly, gazing at his father. 

Tony smiled and nodded in relief, finally able to tell the truth to his son, compared to before. “Yeah, kiddo...yeah I'm okay. The stuff I told you about a while ago? You remember that?” he asked gently. 

"Yeah," Peter nodded innocently. 

"That's all worked out now," Tony said in relief with a nod. 

"E-even with Uncle Rhodey and Happy?" Peter questioned, his head cocking slightly as he stretched and turned towards him, shifting his pillow.

Tony nodded with a smile. He and his best friend were back on good terms, and Happy was healing nicely in the hospital. "Yeah, with both of them. It's all gonna go back to normal soon."

Peter turned some more, scratching his back before sinking down with a huff. God, his eyes were so inquisitive. When the young boy looked at him, Tony felt like Peter could see him for who he was, even the stuff he tried to keep hidden from him. It scared him as much as it impressed him. The boy's voice slurred a bit because he was tired but there was enthusiasm in his tone as he asked, "And mommy?"

Tony chuckled, winking at him, "Your mom and I will never be normal, kiddo, but yeah, we're okay. We just got into a few arguments."

“Mommy says she loves you but you can be very frus- frusta- something sometimes,” Peter murmured with a smirk. 

Tony hung his head but nodded, biting the inside of his cheek and pointing at Peter. “Frustrating," he gave him the word. "Yeah, yeah, that's one of daddy’s best qualities.” He brushes the bangs from his son’s face with a smile. 

“I know,” Peter yawned, a ghost of a wide grin on the boy’s tired face as he turned into his pillow.

Tony gasped in shock and went to tickle his son but suddenly he sank deeper into Tony’s touch, eyes drifting shut, his head heavy against his hand that had been cradling it. The man sighed instead, admitting, "Fine, you get a pass."

When Tony was certain he was back asleep, he slowly started to pull back until he felt a tug on his shirt. He looked down and saw one of Peter’s tiny hands had fisted itself in the fabric, and was refusing to let go. The man rolled his eyes fondly, knowing how clingy sleepy-Peter was, and resigned himself to his fate. He gently picked Peter up, managing not to wake him again, Peter curling into his chest as Tony carried him down the hall. 

Pepper sat up in bed and looked over when she heard him come in and smiled lightly when she saw Peter. She happily moved over a bit to make room for her two boys and Tony laid down, placing Peter in between them.

"He's out," she chuckled lightly, teasing the boy's bangs a bit. "You talk to him?"

"Yeah," Tony nodded quietly as he slipped under the covers, pulling them up over the three of them. "He asked about us," he told her as he turned on his side, raising an eyebrow. "About how we're doing."

Pepper smirked and leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulder as she asked while trying to suppress a smile, "And how are we doing?"

"I'd say we're doing pretty normal," he shrugged, quickly adding a hand gesture as he assured her, "This is _normal_ for me. I hope you realized that when you married me," Tony said with a wince. "Because if not then you're in for a bunch of surprises." 

"Did I realize I was going to get swept up by husband in a metal suit and flown to the top of the building with explosions all around me when I married you? No," she laughed softly, "no I didn't."

"Pretty sure that was in the contract we signed," Tony frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Right next to being in a car that slammed into a guy who had an obsession with electrical whips on a racetrack?" he teased gently, giving his signature smirk as she hit his shoulder. 

"Well I can't back out now, can I?" she said quietly, glancing at him with a loving gaze.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't," he admitted seriously, sliding his hand to her cheek and pulling her into a kiss. Pepper smiled against his lips before she pulled away and settled down in the bed, wrapping her arms around Peter.

"Night Pepp," he leaned down and planted a kiss to her forehead. When he rose back onto his elbow, her eyes were shut, his wife and son promptly fell asleep. 

Tony smiled and slid down, positioning his arms around his family. He held both of them in a protective embrace, taking his first deep breath in months. Looking down at the two of them, he sighed in content, and, with his world close to his heart, he drifted off into a peaceful sleep, something that was quite rare for Tony Stark. 

* * *

Obadiah cursed Justin Hammer’s name with all he had in him. The fool had almost completely blown it for him, and had cost him a significant cut in resources with all of the Hammer drones destroyed. He had his own hand in the entire thing, because if anyone wanted to take down Tony Stark he wanted to be apart of it. But he should have known better than to trust that Vanko character. Unfortunately, he had been the only person Stane knew that stood a chance at recreating the minimized arc reactor; his folks in Afghanistan hadn't even come close and weren't making any progress.

Vanko had succeeded, in a way. He’d come closer than anyone else to Stark’s greatest creation and they had been enough to power the drones, but it wasn’t nearly enough for Obadiah. Only the best was. Anything less than that was unacceptable, and he was somehow surrounded with people who didn’t grasp that simple concept. 

The drones had still only functioned at a fraction of efficiency when compared to the Iron Man suit Tony had made. Stane wanted to spit the foul taste from his mouth just from thinking of the ridiculous name that the media had dubbed Tony’s vanity project years ago after he decided to let the 'secret' out. And now after the current events, Tony was in good standings with the people again, he had saved the world, again, and he had managed to avoid everything thrown at him, again. 

Just like he always did.

The older man managed to hold back his temper and groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. Acting like the perfect ally was tiring, and despite all of his hard work, he knew he was in for the long haul. His plans had been ruined from the start, and the scheme he had been plotting from the beginning had to be postponed for more than he had ever expected. And everything he had tried to accomplish earlier, with the suit recreation, and the Ten Rings help- all of that was slowly being crumpled up into a paper ball that he would soon throw into the trash can.

He would have to start over, adapt, adjust. He needed another way to take over the company, now complicated by the fact that there was another family member in line. Obadiah's plan was flawed even more so by the fact that he knew the newest Stark brat was at least wary of him. 

Hell, the boy probably suspected him to be a threat more than his much wiser father and mother. The small child narrowed his eyes at him ever so slightly whenever he was near, but still smiled fakley, like he was beating Obadiah at his own game. As a _child_. It threw him off guard.

Other people noticed as well, but Tony and Potts had passed it off as if he was just shy. Well, one could scoff, no one took kids seriously anyway.

Nobody except Obadiah. It was everything about the young Stark that unsettled him. The eye contact, the fake smile- Peter made him queasy. The man cursed again, furious he was letting this _child_ get under his skin. The kid wasn’t even five years old and he was already a possible threat to his plans. He was definitely a Stark.

Now that Hammer Tech was no longer an option, thanks to Justin’s premature attack, he decided the production of the Iron Monger would have to fall to OsCorp. It was just as well, Obadiah thought. Norman Osborn had always been the more dedicated and level headed partner. Hammer had supplied some helpful resources, yes, but he was always the child at the big boys’ table. Osborn on the other hand had the patience to match Stane’s and that was a necessity when one was playing the long game. They couldn’t afford any more mistakes until they were ready to make their move. He wouldn’t tolerate it, after everything he had sacrificed to make it this far. 

He made the call. 

* * *

Peter burst into the living room of their Malibu home like a tornado, making a beeline straight for Tony’s legs, his legs pumping, head lowered. He sprinted with a troublemaker grin, nearly causing the man to fall over as he caught a whole thirty-eight pounds of excited toddler. 

“Hey, Pete.” He laughed and picked the small boy up, spinning Peter around above his head as Pepper looked on fondly from the couch.

Peter had just come back from his first day of kindergarten, and from the looks of things, it had gone well. He’d been registered under the name Peter Hogan to divert the press, and only the principal of the elementary school and Peter’s teacher had been told the boy’s real name. Both had signed NDAs, and were sworn to secrecy. The media knew that Tony Stark had a son, but that was all they were going to know until Tony, Pepper, and Peter said otherwise.

Peter screamed in delight as he was spun around so high in the air, and whined slightly when Tony had to put him back down. He hopped a bit, a grin on his face, “Come on Daddy, again!” he cheered, his eyes big and shining with happiness that seemed would never die. 

Tony laughed and cocked his head, raising an eyebrow and countering, “Maybe after you go say hi to your mom and tell us how your first day of school went.”

As Peter ran over to Pepper nearly as fast as he did to Tony, crashing into the couch as he lunged unto her lap. Happy entered the room, an annoyed expression not quite masking the fondness in his eyes as he found Peter embracing his mother. 

“Is he keepin’ you on your toes, Hap?” Tony teased, clapping his friend on the shoulder when he got close enough. The man gave him a look of such pure exhaustion that it had Tony laughing in an instant, doubled over, hand clasping his knee.

“That bad, huh?” he asked in between wheezes.

“The kid wouldn’t stop talking long enough to breathe!” Happy exclaimed instantly, his eyes going wide as he waved his hands in exasperation. “And the twenty-meter walk from the classroom to the car was more like a hundred with Peter constantly running in the opposite direction.”

Peter’s voice drifted over from the couch. “-and then Uncle Happy got me an ice cream cone on the way home!”

Tony smirked at the now slightly embarrassed expression on the bodyguard’s face. “So instead of handling him yourself, you fed him sugar and then gave him back to us to deal with? Thanks. I really appreciate that.”

“He’s all yours boss,” Happy patted him on the shoulder cockily before he turned on his heel and started to stride out of the room.

“Wait a second, I thought his name was Peter _Hogan,_ ” Tony called after him innocently. "You know one day we'll just drop him on your doorstep and run," he joked, winking at his son. 

Happy waved his hand behind him and made a grumbling sound. Pepper let out a light laugh. Peter gasped and shouted, "No, dad!"

"Never mind, Happy, I think we'll keep him," Tony decided and the boy grinned triumphantly. The bodyguard left and Tony shut the door behind him. He traveled back to the couch where Peter was now describing in impressive detail the different people he’d seen on the way home from school. He interrupted a riveting tale of the woman chasing a girl chasing a dog chasing a cat down the sidewalk to ask, “So what was the best part of school, Pete?”

The boy didn’t hesitate. He grinned and announced, with purposeful dramatic pauses and everything, “I made a friend!”

Tony and Pepper gasped in mock surprise at this. “On the first day?”

Peter puffed up his tiny chest proudly. “Yup!” But then, his face fell slightly, turning into a more baffled look. “At least, ‘m pretty sure she wants to be my friend?” He scratched his head, glancing at his parents confused expressions. Peter continued, explaining, “Her name’s Michelle Jones and she said she doesn’t want friends, and that everyone’s a loser but that I’m just slightly less of a loser. So we played at recess together,” he finished happily with a content shrug. “I told her I wasn’t a loser and she said okay and then we went on the swings.”

Tony stared in shock at this while Pepper tried not to laugh. 

Peter looked up at his parents, and asked slowly, “That means we’re friends, right?”

Tony chuckled and nodded, crossing his arms, “Yeah Pete, it looks like you just found yourself a Pepper. Don’t let her get away. Alright?” Pepper shot him a loving smirk.

Pete nodded innocently and then started describing all of the games they’d played that day in class, and his parents just sat there content and listened until the boy finally ran out of words.

It took a while. It was Peter _Stark_ after all.

* * *

Michelle Jones, or MJ as she eventually let Peter, and only Peter, Tony noticed, call her, became a frequent visitor to the Stark home in the following years. As much as she denied the fact that she and Peter were friends to his parents, and that they were more ‘acquaintances’ because she didn’t have friends, she let him rant as much as he wanted about his dad’s work and, when Tony made the mistake of introducing the boy to Star Wars early, the endless gushing about the amazingness of the movies. Tony was still trying to understand how she learned the word ‘acquaintances’. 

At first he had been concerned, and reluctant to let the girl in on their little secret, but eventually he relaxed. He liked Michelle, and even though she was young, she was scary good at keeping a secret. He no longer had any worries about her leaking Peter’s identity. The girl was practical and blunt, especially for her age, and whenever she came over she was one of the few who could manage to get Peter to stop talking, which he considered a rare jewel. 

While watching Star Wars with him for the first time, she’d nearly spoiled Darth Vader being Luke’s father for Peter. Apparently ‘vader’ being the German word for ‘father’ made it super obvious to her. Only Tony’s lightning fast reflexes (read: Pepper’s reflexes) had saved them all from a complete meltdown if Peter had learned that little tidbit before it was revealed. His actual reaction to the scene was definitely worth it. Even Michelle agreed, which was why she let Pepper talk her into keeping that quiet until Empire Strikes Back.

Michelle would always find ways to make Peter think, and was far more ahead with everything in the world. One night, shortly after he and MJ had been playing, Peter had casually asked his parents what racism was. Tony and Pepper had both been left speechless for several moments, Peter staring patiently, before Pepper led the soon-to-be seven year old to the couch, sat him down, and expertly explained it to him in as firm and serious words as possible while Tony watched on in awe. She was so good at parenting that it was scary sometimes. 

They started to realize that they were sheltering Peter from a lot of the harsh reality that happened outside of the tower. Tony Stark was Iron Man, and he fought monsters and aliens and bad guys. Peter was at that age where he was beginning to realize that there were monsters that didn't come from outer space. Tony's father, Howard, was quick to tell him about the evils in the world, and maybe that's why the new father didn't want to.

Tony was an adult before he even got to double digits, because he was forced to be, and he would rather die than have that for Peter. 

But he knew he had to let him grow up, and learn, and that started with what exactly the glowing circle was inside his chest. Tony wrestled with himself for years on when was a good time to bring that up. After all, he had other things to worry about with this crazy kid.

Peter had started insisting on following his dad to the workshop as much as possible since he was four. As he grew older, the requests only got more frequent. Tony, remembering his own childhood, had done his best not to pressure Peter into anything (again, like Howard had), especially mechanics, even though the boy showed genuine interest in it.

Tony remembered the day that he had wanted to play catch outside but his father insisted on bringing him to the lab and teaching him to build a circuit board. The young Stark had done it, and had forced a smile for the picture. It was the cover of a magazine that he still had in one of the locked drawers in the lab that he never looked at. Tony never wanted that for his kid. 

But Peter wouldn’t be deterred, and the reluctant father eventually caved to the boy’s protests. He and Pepper had worked to create several new protocols for J.A.R.V.I.S. that would revolve solely around Peter’s safety. Tony had a corner of the lab set up in a small-scale (and 'baby-proofed') version of his own. He guided his son through the basics of how to use a hammer safely, how to screw in a bolt tightly, and started teaching him simple mechanics, followed by the basics of chemistry a year or two later when Peter’s excitement over a baking soda volcano nearly had his teacher sending him home because he was interrupting the class.

Peter quickly got the hang of both, and several years later, now spent much of his time trying to work around many of the protocols that, in his mind, kept him from having fun. Tony had found him very close to hacking one of them before he intervened. Of course, he never told Peter he was close. He had just reprimanded him and strictly told him to go to his room (which meant for five minutes), Peter sighing and walking out the door, leaving Tony sitting there wondering how the heck he managed to do it.

"JARVIS, stop laughing," Tony grumbled as he ran a hand through his hair, staring at the computer he had just gotten his son off of. "This is your programming."

_"You designed it sir, and in my defense, I cannot laugh."_

"Yeah well-" Tony let out out a groan before he spread his hands and spun around in his chair with a small smirk, muttering, "My kid's a genius."

* * *

“Come on JARVIS!” the boy pleaded with the AI. His dad was currently in a meeting, having been dragged to it by his mother, and this was one of the rare times he could work on something a little more fun. “Just one try?”

JARVIS’ voice calmly floated down from the ceiling. _“I apologize young sir, but I’m afraid your father’s protocol “Constant Vigilance!” and “No Bombarda” prevents you from accessing those_ _Chemicals.”_ (The Stark family loved Harry Potter.)

“Da-…rn it,” Peter hastily corrected before he completed the swear, eyes snapping wide. Yet another protocol was the “Baby Swear Jar”, and JARVIS would immediately alert his parents who would then punish him by taking a lego set for a day or not letting him in the lab after school. He wasn’t going to lose more lab time because he accidentally swore, even if he’d heard his dad use the word much more than his mom would think was appropriate. It made very effective blackmail.

_"Good catch young man."_

Peter finally gave up and moved back to his corner and started messing around casually with the few things he had access to unsupervised. He was just in the process of adding his yeast mixture into hydrogen peroxide, bored out of his mind, when his dad entered the lab. Tony arrived just in time to see elephant toothpaste erupt from the beaker Peter was using and turn into a rainbow colored glob across the boy’s desk.

Sneaking up behind his son, he saw him sigh as he reached for the towels that Dum-E was so helpfully handing him. The robot looked up once it saw him and Tony put a finger to his lips since he soon realized the kid had no idea he was there. 

As the boy jotted down some notes absentmindedly, Tony slipped his hands underneath him, yanked him out of his chair, and pinned him against his chest. Peter squealed, first in surprise, then it morphed into laughter as his father started tickling his sensitive sides, along with pleas for the torture to stop.

After several minutes, Tony finally relinquished his hold, and Peter immediately rolled away from their position on the lab floor. He was breathless from laughing, as was Tony, and his pitiful glare sent his father into another round of hysterics. Peter rolled his eyes and looked around, his gaze landing on the elephant toothpaste on the desk next to him.

He grinned wickedly, set on revenge; his father yet to look up.

Tony was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes when he felt something land on top of his head. He froze, mouth gaping open as his fingers searched for the foreign substance. They finally brushed the- oh, wow. He pulled his hand back to reveal the multi-colored foam. Tony turned to see his son standing with the now less-than-full beaker and a satisfied smirk on his face that was eerily similar to his mother’s, even if the boy was practically the spitting image of Tony at that age. He always found sparks of Pepper in him once in a while.

Tony shook his head in shock, resigning himself to his fate as he sank down into a sitting position and sighed. He poked at the foam on his head and admitted, “Alright, truce. You win, Pete.”

Peter pumped his fist in excitement, and Tony watched proudly as the boy scampered off to find more towels for his dad with Dum-E and U. The three brought back a roll of them, a grease-stained rag, and a fire extinguisher, the latter of which earned Dum-E a glare from Tony.

"Am I on fire? No? Exactly. So don’t even think about it,” he pointed furiously. The arm immediately darted behind Peter, using the boy as a shield. Tony glared for a second before acquiescing. 

“Smart move,” he said with a smile before then focusing on Peter who was struggling to wipe some of the goop out his hair while he disciplined his robot. The child only succeeded in smearing it in. Tony sighed in annoyance, taking a paper towel and starting on the other side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his grimace did not go unnoticed. There was slight shame on his son’s face as he worked out the toothpaste. 

“Sorry Dad,” Peter murmured, cheeks turning a slight pink.

Tony, whose hair was starting to turn slimy now, was quick to reassure him with a slight nudge from his shoulder, “Hey it’s ok, bud.” He reached out and cupped Peter’s cheek and winked, “If you ruined my hair, then that will be a different story.”

"I didn't!" Peter whined and Tony laughed, poking him gently in the ribs. 

"But just think before you act next time, okay, Pete?" The older Stark wouldn’t admit that he was seriously impressed with the kid’s prank war ability, because that would be ‘being a bad influence,’ as Pepper put it. He hoped Peter knew that, and the small glint they both had in their eyes made him think he did. Tony finally caved, not liking how formal and parental he sounded a second earlier so he added, “I would have done the same, just...don’t tell your mom.”

"I won't. Besides," the boy shrugged with a mischievous smirk, "I did think."

"That's my boy," Tony said proudly. Peter grinned at the wink and loving compliment from his dad before returning to his task, insisting he did it himself. Tony closed his eyes to wipe some of the foam off his face, yet with a tiny smirk, he realized it was getting worse, not better, with Peter’s rubbing. Whatever. He’d let the boy have his fun. It was like getting his hair washed...except not as gentle, and messy, and...well, no, it wasn’t like that at all on second thought.

“I think I got most of it out,” the young Stark reported after a minute, giving Tony’s head a final firm scrub, and ruining Tony’s hair for the day. It now looked like it had been pulled in every different direction and styled- anyway.

Why was there vegetable oil on the desk? 

Tony raised his eyebrow at the bottle of oil on his son’s work space, certain it hadn’t been there before he left two hours earlier and asked, “Uh hey...what’s up with the oil, kiddo?”

Peter’s smile lit up the entire lab as he dashed over to the desk and climbed into the chair, completely forgetting about what had just happened. Tony grinned and stood, following him over as his son started chattering away about how borrowed it from the kitchen and used it to separate the various types of food coloring in order for a more exciting and colorful result for his foam. Tony nodded along, suddenly examining the small robot mouse that was running in endless circles at the edge of the desk. 

“Did you...make this?” Tony crouched and held it in his hands, holding it up for Peter. 

Peter blinked and looked up at him in confusion, snickering, “No.”

Tony nodded, setting it back down on the desk where it looped in circles again- shaking his head as to why he thought-

“It didn't use to go in circles like that. I just made the motor that’s inside of it now,” Peter said simply, looking at him like Tony had just asked him if he had walked on the moon. No silly, I just built the rocket. 

“Oh, of course,” Tony said mocking simplicity. Peter smiled at him like he was the funniest person in the world before continuing on whatever topic his brain had landed on. Tony looked over at the unknowing boy, impressed. Mumbling out sounds to let him know he was listening, which he was, he also scratched his head and contemplated; Peter had definitely gotten much better at mechanics. Maybe it was time…

The kid had finally talked himself out and was now suspiciously watching his dad who was stroking the little mouse, affectionately named Cheesy because all robots should be named, every time he ran by. There was an odd look he was giving the mouse, and although Peter knew he had been listening; Tony always listened, there was something else. Something given away by his unique expression.

“Dad?” Peter questioned, confused by the thoughtful look on his dad’s face. 

Tony turned to him with a smile, putting his hands on his knees to stand up, “What would you say if I told you I thought you were ready to work on some… bigger projects with me, bud?”

Peter‘s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. For a second he didn’t speak, and Tony almost asked the question again before his son spluttered, “You… you mean it, dad?” His tone was almost hesitant, but the excitement was clear as day.

Tony leaned over and ruffled his son’s hair, overwhelmed by the amount of sheer affection and love that he felt for this little boy. “I sure do. Come on, kid. We’ve got special permission from your mom-"

"We do?" Peter gasped.

"No," Tony snorted, scratching his head and assuring him, "but I'll take the fall and I'm 80% sure she'll be okay with it so we’re sort of kind of in the clear."

"Well- well- what are we gonna do?" Peter demanded, eyes still huge and hopeful.

Tony said the sentence he had been waiting for, "We’re gonna work on the Iron Man suit.”

The high-pitched squeal that followed this announcement was nearly enough to break glass. It was both painful and extremely adorable and once his ears stopped ringing, Tony laughed. Peter immediately jumped out of his chair and bolted to the main lab, still squealing. Funny he knew exactly where to go, like he had been waiting for this moment.

Maybe Tony didn’t know, the kid thought, but Peter had been waiting. 

Tony knew.

The older Stark followed calmly, a glowing smile on his face. Peter didn't even stop at the closed door, he just punched in the number and slid through once the door opened wide enough that he could fit.

"How did you know the code?" he demanded, looking back at the keypad in shock.

Peter smirked, "You never covered your hand when you did it."

Shaking his head, because he should have known that answer, he let the door shut behind him as all the lights flickered on and the machines whirled to life. Coming up behind his son, he laughed as he saw the boy tiptoeing to see over the edge of the work table that held the latest rendering of the Iron Man suit: the Mark 37. 

It was still in it’s planning phases. Tony wouldn’t dream of involving Peter with the actual machinery involved in making a suit just yet. It had taken hours worth of negotiations with Pepper just to pose the idea for this little excursion, and that meant there were strings attached. But he could work around those. He always worked around those. 

“No real building, Tony,” she’d said firmly, and refused to budge on that point. Momma Bear Pepper was even more terrifying than Hormonal Pepper and Tony didn’t win many arguments. But he made do with what he was allowed and tiptoed around the rules enough to get what he needed done. However, he had never actually gotten the 100% A okay, so he was really going out on the ledge here, and it was totally worth it. Pepper _might_ find out and she would probably put her hands on her hips and give him ‘the look’, but Tony knew she was no match for the smile on Peter’s face when he came unknowingly to the rescue, talking about what he had learned and how happy he was.

Snapping himself out of his humorous thoughts and images of Pepper trying and failing to plaster a frown on her desperately curling lip, Tony laughed in delight and grabbed Peter around the waist, lifting him up into his arms so that he could see the nearest 3D screen. Playfully teasing him with a small poke at his stomach once again, giggles suddenly erupted from the boy. Once he was comfortably settled in his dad’s arms, Peter turned his wide eyes on the hologram display in front of them. Tony watched with pure adoration as his son reached forward slowly and began to manipulate the hologram slowly, a look of complete concentration twisting his face. 

It was brilliant.

He rubbed Peter’s back as he opened his mouth to talk the boy through the basics of the Iron Man suit. He never even got a word out.

“What’s that?” Peter asked in wonder before Tony could even begin, his eyes wider than before, if that was even possible. He was pointing to the glowing center of the suit.

Tony grinned and turned Peter towards him, tapping his chest, feeling the hard arc reactor that his finger connected with, “It’s where this goes.” Peter blinked and focused on the bright circle that shone through Tony’s shirt. Tony watched his eyes and explained slowly, “It’s called an arc reactor. You know those magnets mom has on the refrigerator? This is a huge one. It’s called an electromagnet.” Peter nodded slowly and once he saw the gears turning in his son’s head, he continued. “This is really really powerful. It stores a bunch of energy.”

"How did you get it?" Peter asked innocently.

Tony swallowed and he guessed the boy felt him tense because his son put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay dad," Peter said with a smile, "you can tell me."

The older Stark managed a weak smirk, gulping down a lump in his throat. he let him slide down his hip, setting him on the floor and steadying him out of habit, even if Peter didn't need to be steadied at this age. The kid held a bit of his sleeve, and Tony kept his hand on his shoulder as he crouched to eye level, his son watching him with curious eyes. 

"Before you were born, I went on vacation," Tony said slowly, picking his words carefully. "And while I was there, there were some people- bad guys actually..."

"Like in the movies," Peter said with a small nod, following so far.

Tony winced slightly but concealed it as best he could as he nodded with him, "Yeah, Pete, like in the movies. Except these bad guys weren't just in the movies, they were really bad guys. And I stopped them, but I got a little hurt. Right here," Tony said, pointing to his chest and tapping the arc reactor.

"In your heart," Peter concluded, reaching out his hand and brushing Tony's shirt where the light was coming from.

"Yep," Tony said in agreement, warmth spreading through his chest at his son's brown eyes that were so pure and uncorrupted. Everyone said he had Tony's eyes, even Tony himself thought so when he was younger, but as more time passed, the more he realized that Peter didn't. Or maybe he just didn't have the horrors that Tony saw behind his own whenever he looked in the mirror. And he was glad for that. 

"How hurt?" Peter asked inquisitively, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Tony gave him a quick smile, "Not too bad. But it was enough to worry my doctor-"

"Did- did the bad guys- did they hurt you?" Peter demanded firmly, staring right through him.

The older Stark froze, his jaw clenching as he avoided his son's gaze, forcing his hand on Peter's shoulder to stay still while the rest of his body trembled. _Did the bad guys hurt you?_

To this day, he still felt the water trickling down the back of his throat if he was silent and alone for too long. He could relive drowning again and again if he didn't snap himself out of it. He could still taste his own blood and feel a swollen lip if someone dropped something and it made a loud noise. It would remind him of when he laid on the ground too tired to move. Sometimes he was suddenly unable to breath because his lungs started closing up on him. Call it PTSD, call it panic attacks, call it whatever you wanted, but Tony Stark would never be okay-

"Daddy?"

Actually, maybe he would. Or as close to it as he could get.

Tony's gaze snapped back to his son in a panic and he searched the boy's eyes, making his decision. Tony smoothed his face and gave his kid a convincing smile which wasn't hard because he was filled with love whenever he looked at him. "No, no kiddo. Of course not."

Peter's shoulders relaxed, while Tony's stayed tense. "Oh. Okay. So your heart was hurt," he prompted, tapping the arc reactor again. "And they gave you that and it made you all better?"

"Yep," Tony said, looking down at his chest. 

"Cool," Peter said softly, staring at the small circle with new meaning and appreciation. The look was out of gratitude, and a happy smile played on his face. "What was your doctor's name?" the boy then asked curiously.

"Yinsen," Tony smiled painfully, ruffling his hair despite the clenching of his heart. "And he made sure I got back to you, Pete," he said in a low voice.

Peter nodded in happiness, cocking his head and casually asking, "Where is he?"

"Oh, he's with his family," Tony said simply, controlling his voice. He continued before Peter could ask a question. "So your dad," he said with a raised eyebrow, encouraged by Peter's excitement, "built a suit with him and escaped just like in the movies, all because of this thing." He tapped his finger against the arc reactor, taking a deep breath.

No one will ever understand how grateful he was that Peter then pointed to the suit. “It goes in there,” he realized. 

Tony nods and is finally able to take a deep breath, “Yeah. All nice and bright.” He takes Peter’s hand as his boy tugs him closer to the suit which is being displayed. “Now Jarvis is in there, and he’s super smart. Everything he knows is stored these things called hard drives which go all the way around the compound, in all the computers and phones and," he pauses for dramatic effect, "in my suits. He tells me where to go.”

“And then you fly…” Peter says in wonder, breaking away and crouching by the boots as he runs his finger across the smooth metal. 

“And then I fly,” Tony agrees with a laugh, bending down beside him. “These are the thrusters and then the hands have repulsors which shoot really hot bursts of energy.”

“From the arc reactor energy,” Peter nods, standing up and walking around to the other side of the suit. “It’s powers the whole thing.”

Tony blinks, scrambling to chase him, “Yeah- yeah, from the arc- good job.” How the hell did he-

“Can I try on the helmet?” Peter asks and when Tony's gaze swivels to look at him, there's a knowing smirk on his face. The man hesitates and then Peter changes his tactic. His voice comes out as small and he has wide eyes full of innocence, “Please?”

Crap. One glance at the puppy eyes and his father is done.

Tony disconnects the helmet from the suit, getting him to finally stand still as he eases it down on Peter’s head, the eyes flickering into a bright gleam. The kid hoots, probably because he too could tell the eyes lit up and then Tony hears a muffled, “Woah…” soon following; no doubt the screens had kicked in. The boy then puts out his hand like he had one of Tony’s gauntlets on it.

“Boom,” Peter says firmly. 

Tony chuckles and smiles in pride, looking down at his son who is mimicking some of the poses he’s seen his father in on various magazines. Peter nearly topples over after leaning backward too far; the helmet was pretty heavy on a kid his age, but Peter shrieked when he tried to take it off.

After being convinced to leave it on, Tony then engages the kid in a few more minutes about circuits, which he gets through while eating a bag of dried blueberries that he kept laying around. Peter was hungry, but having a handful meant taking off the helmet, and the kid would do no such thing. This was unfortunate for Tony, who found it hard to keep a straight face while speaking to his small kid with a massive helmet on.

They get through the mechanics of one of the gauntlets that he was currently fixing, and Peter is a fast learner. He quickly understands the technology and suggests Tony ‘move the blue wire to the big panel thing’ because apparently ‘it’s too crowded’. Tony blinks and does what he suggests while Peter gets up and goes back to look at the Iron Man suit he's asked to wear about six times. According to him he needs to 'complete the outfit'. 

Tony's denial is distracted because sure enough, after moving the blue wire, the hand gets re-calibrated and Tony sits on the ground in shock as his kid rambles behind him, giggling each time the helmet threatens to topple him.

Obviously his son hadn’t known about all the technological aspects that repositioning the blue wire would do, but it proved he had an eye for this thing.

A good eye.

Tony had been stuck on fixing the glitch for two days, and Peter had solved it with a shrug in two seconds. Sometimes a second opinion helped, he thought, especially from your genius son. The older Stark sat on the floor, grinning like an idiot and staring in shock at the working gauntlet for about two minutes, running his hand through his hair, until Peter switched from his pleads to try on the suit and asked, "Which button makes a blast?" 

Tony spun and jumped to his feet once he saw what Peter had slipped his hand into and pulled the working gauntlet off immediately before they could blow up the lab. 

“We can’t do that just yet, because Mommy will get pissed as sh-oot,” Tony corrects carefully, Peter’s covered head snapping up, desperate for more blackmail. He can tell his eyes are narrowed beneath the helmet, and Tony knows he’s smirking. Tony snickers, “I’ll be in the dog house for a while if I let you blast something.”

"Doghouse..." The helmet cocks to the side, “What’s that mean?”

Tony puts a hand on the top of the helmet where he was used to ruffling his son's hair, “It means that Mommy would give me that look that she gave you when you broke her vase. And that would be very bad.”

“Very bad,” Peter repeats with a shudder, agreeing to wait since he remembered that day all too well. 

Tony winks, promising him that he would get to fire it later. Then he gently lifted the helmet off of his son’s head, the boy helping him carefully, his hair sticking up from static, bangs spiked. 

Tony smoothed it down with his palm and let the helmet fly back and lock into the suit, Peter spinning with a happy gasp. Tony grinned at the reaction and asked, “Is that enough for today or you want to learn more?”

Peter smiled and announced, “More.”

Like father like son. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Lord theyre so cute. Father and son literally this time which just kills me XD Gotta love them tony and peter for the win. ANYWAY posting schedule AHA AHA i actually have no idea it may be random i will have to see when this starts picking up how many days it takes to write one and then try my best to stick to that yall know i do haha  
> Thank you all again for your support and thank you for reading, not sure who reads these crazy notes i am so so sorry if you do. i hope they at least make you laugh, because ive always wanted to be a comedian. Im just kidding im not funny. ANYWAY get sleep everyone! Im a hypocrite i know. Good luck with school and life and with whatever in the world is going on idk if you need to hear that im sure some people do so hey <3 youve got this. It's 2021!! Weve gotten through the worst year ever so we can do anything now hhahaha  
> If i just jinxed 2021 i am so so sorry  
> ILL SHUT UP NOW  
> thank you for reading, please comment i love to hear from you guys, and i will post the next chapter soon!  
> Peace out everybody, i love you 3000 <3 <3 <3


	3. They Grow Up So Fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO LOVELY READERSSSS we are back yet again for another awesome chapter credit to stiltsrosko and a lil bit of me lol and im super hyped for this one. sorry this is a day late my bbbbb- end of the quarter has been crazy. :((((( teachers like drowning everyone in work isnt that sweet of them <3  
> Hope you all are doing welllllll drinking coffee getting sleep handling school etc etc all the crazy things in life.  
> A bunch of new mentions and new faces in this one...Steve Rogers being the main one for those of you who are fans and if youre not a fan of him like me (team ironman all the way) youll like this too i think ive found the happy medium teehee so everyone should enjoy. No fights. XD  
> But you will probably recognize where we are in the MCU immediately and get HYPED >:)  
> Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has supported this story it means the world and im so happy youre enjoying so far. And OFC more irondad and (well i cant say spiderson yetttt) and teen peter *tear* hes growing up so fast get it get it because chapter name?  
> Yes im sorry youre going to have to get used to my old jokes haha  
> Ight you awesome people read on :))))

“...but if we adjust the levels for the reactor here, wouldn’t that improve the distribution throughout the tower?”

Tony stroked his goatee thoughtfully as he considered it. Tonight was the unveiling of the Stark Tower arc reactor, and MJ had been invited to accompany Tony, Pepper, and soon-to-be eleven-year-old Peter to New York for the event. School was starting in a few weeks, and this treat was killing two birds with one stone as an early birthday present for Peter as well as an end of summer trip. Parenting at it's finest. Now Pepper and MJ watched in fond exasperation as the boys continued to fuss over the tiniest details.

Peter had since come a long way since suggesting where to put the blue wire when Tony first let him work on the suits, (as well as finding out from the internet about what really happened in Afghanistan, but he never confronted his father about it) and after countless nights in the lab, Tony knew to trust the kid whenever he made an observation. 

The older Stark made the quick adjustment without a second thought and his smile grew immensely as he saw the energy output increase. It wasn’t much, but it was a significant change. He slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, and gave him a broad smile. ”Nice catch, Pete!”

"Thanks, dad." Peter practically preened with the praise, and his smile could have lit up the tower faster than the arc reactor.

MJ rolled her eyes at her friend’s antics and called, “Don’t get a big head loser!” Peter deflated slightly but the grin stayed on his face. He knew MJ was kidding. 

Mostly. 99% of the time, ‘loser’ was a negative term, but with MJ it was becoming more of an affectionate name calling. 

Pepper watched with approval from where she sat on the couch in the penthouse. She knew MJ would never let Peter get a big head. The girl kept his feet firmly on the ground even when his head was flying above the clouds, much like Pepper did with Tony, although, Pepper suspected that Peter would be just as kind and softhearted without her help. That was just who Peter was. There wasn’t a bad bone in his body, and he tried to help everyone around him. MJ simply helped temper those reckless urges with practicality and reason in a way that Pepper almost envied when she was dealing with Tony. 

She gazed fondly at her little family as Peter strolled over with her husband. Tony bent over and tossed Peter onto the couch with some difficulty. He wasn’t a baby anymore, after all, even if a part of her would always see him as one. But that didn’t mean Tony couldn’t lift him up like he used to when he was a kid.

Peter laughed as he landed with a tumble on the couch before he quickly sat up, excited about the activation. “Can I _please_ come with you?” he pleaded. Pepper shook her head. The boy had been trying to convince them for weeks to allow him to accompany his father.

However, this time, she knew he was serious. He’d pulled out the puppy-dog eyes. When used appropriately, those eyes had gotten Peter ice cream, extra lab privileges, and permission to stay up late. Happy, Rhodey, and most of the kid’s teachers were the most susceptible, with Tony not far behind. Only MJ and Pepper could resist them consistently, but they too had their times of weakness. Thankfully, this time Tony was prepared for the tactic.

“We talked about this bud,” Tony chided softly, ruffling Peter’s hair fondly. “I have to go underwater and last I checked, you’re not a fish.”

Peter snorted despite his disappointment. “Can’t you just give me a suit?” he pleaded. Getting a helmet on or a gauntlet ever so often was as far as he got to getting into a full suit; that hadn’t progressed as much as his other privileges had from when he was younger. He knew Tony wouldn’t budge much further. 

"Yeah, not gonna happen," Tony snorted. 

“Peter,” his mother’s stern voice called. He turned and saw her with an eyebrow raised, an unyielding expression on her face. Correction: _the_ face. Peter had his puppy eyes, Tony had his smirk, and Pepper had 'the face'.

Peter sighed. He’d known it was a long shot but now he was certain it was a lost cause. When Pepper Potts got that look on her face, nothing would change her mind.

“Yes, Mom,” he muttered, and he slumped slightly in disappointment with a loud sigh, his arms crossed. His glasses fell down his nose and he didn’t bother fixing them. He’d been wearing them for a few years now, and denied questions about contacts; he liked them. Although he wasn’t completely blind without them- it was more like an unfocused camera, he wore them as often as he could.

Tony frowned at his son due to his dramatic reaction and turned to Pepper, opening his mouth to say something else. She mouthed ‘no’, and narrowed her eyes, Tony immediately surrendering with a sigh. He hated seeing his kid sad, even if he knew that both he and Pepper were being completely reasonable in denying Peter's request. Sure, maybe they were a little bit protective sometimes, but hopefully Peter knew it was for his own good. 

He didn't. 

"You both are overprotective," Peter whined.

Tony shot him a look, "You know Pete, some kids say that when their parents check their messages on their phone. I'm saying you can't fly with me hundreds of feet in the air and diving into water in a suit you don't really know how to control. Oh God, how dare I?" he joked.

"Well I don't have a phone," Peter sneered triumphantly. Which was true, he didn't. Although he did have a watch that could make emergency calls and a bunch of other tech. Pepper and Tony decided to wait for the whole iPhone thing until he was older though. 

"Pushing it, kid," Tony warned with a smile. 

"Fine," Peter sighed, and left it at that, disappointed, but not mad. 

Tony walked out towards the balcony, through the rings as they assembled his suit around him. The armor clicked in around his legs and he spread his hands so they could clamp around his arms. The helmet flipped over his head, the face mask closing over with a click, the eyes lighting up as data was splayed over his screen inside the suit. He glanced back just before takeoff and saw Peter’s eyes sparkling with pure awe and amazement; the kid couldn't help it. Tony grinned, even though nobody could see it, and took off. And if he added a little extra flair to his movements as he angled towards the East River…

Eh. 

He was Iron Man after all, and he had a kid to impress. 

* * *

Peter ran out to his dad a bit later as he landed on the balcony. He heard Tony say, ”I’m actually out,” (probably on the phone) just before he collided with his father, now bare of the red and gold armor. The man happily slung his arm around the boy’s shoulder and leaned down slightly to give him a tight squeeze. 

“So buddy,” he laughed, “how does it feel to be on top of the best building in New York City?”

Peter laughed and just hugged him harder. He was still a little annoyed that his dad hadn’t let him come to see the tower turn on, but for right now, he let it go. They did that a lot. Got into arguments only to forget them a second later. Bigger matters were at hand. Right now was a time to celebrate. 

Tony laughed right along with his son and they strolled back inside side by side. Pepper smiled. They really did look so much alike. Peter was practically a carbon copy of his father at that age, and their similarities were getting more obvious with every passing day. 

Michelle smirked as Peter sat down next to her while Tony and Pepper checked the tower’s energy levels one more time. MJ elbowed him in the ribs. “Nice work, dork.” Peter yelped at the sharp pain, and rubbed his now-sensitive ribs. 

“Geez, thanks MJ,” he whined with a small smile. He pushed his glasses up his nose from where they’d slid after he twisted away from his friend. 

His mom and dad made their way over to the couches where the two kids were sitting, with Pepper shaking her head in exasperation. Tony walked backward with her, announcing, “Give yourself some credit, please. Stark Tower is your baby. Give yourself... twelve percent of the credit."

Pepper snorted and so did MJ from the couch. His mother scoffed, “Twelve percent?”

"That's hardly enough," Michelle piped up in her spot. She looked away and sniffed, "None of my business though."

"Thank you, MJ," Pepper pointed to her and looked back at Tony in question. 

Tony shrugged, “An argument can be made for fifteen-”

“Twelve percent? For my baby?” she asked incredulously with raised eyebrows in mock hurt. Tony’s face went slack as he recognized his mistake and Peter started giggling as he watched his dad try to recover from his slip-up. 

"Ah, ah, ah-" Pepper put her hand up and stopped Tony from rebounding as she plopped down on the couch next to him and pulled her son close, looking up at Tony innocently. “In that case you only get 12% of this baby.” Now it was Tony’s turn to scoff and Pepper grinned, “It’s only fair, right, Peter?” 

“Mom!” Peter moaned, but he didn’t pull away. He raised his chin proudly, “I’m going to be eleven soon. I’m not a baby anymore!”

Tony gasped in mock surprise. “Eleven?! That can’t be right. Last I checked you were only seven!”

Peter rolled his eyes and whined, “Daaaaad!” He drew the word out for several seconds.

Tony cupped his hand behind his ear. “Well with that whine he sounds five, tops.”

“Dad!” Peter cried, his face now burning bright pink. He focused extra hard to deepen his voice and not make it sound young this time. The result was that the other three laughed, and Peter’s face grew even hotter, despite the small smile on his own face. To hide it, he buried his face in his mom’s shoulder. In response, she started carding her fingers through his curls, and he hummed in content.

Tony drummed his hand on his knee as he sat down, continuing, “Anyway, I did do all the heavy lifting. Literally, I lifted the heavy things,” he demonstrated with his hands and Peter turned with an entertained smirk to look at his mother’s face, Tony adding, “And sorry, but the security snafu? That was on you.”

Pepper made a face and rolled her eyes, nodding sarcastically, “Oh.”

“My private elevator-” Tony started dramatically.

“You mean _our_ elevator?” Peter corrected, his father gasping at his interruption. 

“Who’s side are you on, Pete?” Tony started to smile, looking back at a proud Pepper and pointing at her, “...was teeming with sweaty workmen.” He shrugged before he studied his wife's expression. Then he rubs his chin and bites his lip, admitting knowingly. “I'm going to pay for that comment about percentages in some subtle way later, aren't I?” 

Peter lets out a laugh and so does Pepper who purses her lips and says, “Not gonna be that subtle.” Tony shifts his feet and tries for a winning smile. 

MJ is the one who gives him an out; she lets out a cough and looks pointedly towards the champagne and Tony snaps, “Great thinking Michelle. Yes. Honey?” He pours them both a glass of champagne and hands one to her, settling down on the couch opposite them, taking a sip. “I'll tell you what. Next building's gonna say 'Potts' on the tower.”

“On the lease,” Pepper corrects with a wink. Peter can’t help but smile at his parent’s banter.

Even MJ rolled her eyes with a grin and settled further into the couch with her book, but before she could start reading again in earnest, JARVIS spoke up from the ceiling. _“Sir, Agent Coulson is still on the line. My protocols are being overridden.”_

MJ shot a half-hearted glare at Tony as her reading was interrupted but she also watched in curiosity. She’d heard quite a bit about Agent Coulson from Peter. Apparently he’d become a frequent visitor to the Starks ever since Tony became Iron Man. Him and Ms. Natasha- who’d been Peter’s favorite babysitter besides Uncle Rhodey since he was little. MJ had never met either of them, and was hopeful that maybe she’d finally get the chance. She wouldn’t admit that to Peter though, no, she would just give him a shrug and a nod and say something like, ‘cool’. He knew what that meant though, he always knew. 

Tony pulled out his phone with an apologetic look to the rest of the family and held it up, slipping into his public persona. “You have reached the Life-Model Decoy of Tony Stark, please leave a message,” he said mechanically. Peter laughed out loud, MJ snorted, and Pepper just gave him a fond look as she reached to the side table and poured sparkling apple juice into some glasses for the kids to celebrate the special achievement, the two of them taking it greedily.

The voice that came through was deceptively calm. _“This is urgent.”_  
  
Tony rolled his eyes, annoyance starting to creep into his tone. “Then leave it urgently!” Peter smirked at the familiar sarcasm from his father, something he was beginning to pick up on.

The line went dead as the elevator doors opened to reveal Phil Coulson standing in the elevator, still holding the phone to his ear.

“Security breach!” Tony called, casting an annoyed look to the ceiling, as if waiting for JARVIS to put the compound on lockdown, while Peter jumped to his feet and ran to give the man a hug.

“Hi, Mr. Phil!” he grinned. Coulson dropped his stern expression and gave Peter a huge smile in return as he hugged him back.

“Phil?" Tony made a face. "Peter, what did we talk about?” he called from the couch as he followed Pepper over. MJ just went back to her book as she listened to the conversation, her eyes staying on one word on the page. 

Peter grinned as he stepped back a few feet. “Right. Hi, Mr. Agent!” He said it sincerely, but the mischievous grin on his face gave him away. Coulson just chuckled, while Pepper gave her husband a stern look. 

Tony did his best to play innocent and put up his hands in mock shock. “What?” he said incredulously, “His first name is Agent,” he defended fruitlessly. 

Pepper rolled her eyes and turned back to Coulson. “Come on in, Phil. We’re celebrating,” she invited warmly.

“Which is why he can’t stay,” Tony mumbled while plastering a fake smile on his face, clearly annoyed by the fact that their family night was now apparently ruined. He gave Pepper a look who in turn reversed the innocent looking smile on her husband. He gave her a fake smile as well.

Coulson tactfully ignored him and held out a manilla folder, his eyes trained on Tony. Peter couldn’t read him through his eyes, but he could hear underlying seriousness in his voice, “We need you to look this over. As soon as possible.”

Tony blanched slightly, unwanted memories stirred up as his thoughts raced to figure out what the contents could be. He fought to keep his face neutral and shrugged, looking down at the folder in playful disgust. “I don’t like to be handed things,” he said with a forced smirk, slightly relieved when his voice came out neutral instead of shaky.

Pepper, the wonderful woman she was, quickly jumped in with a quick glance of concern in his direction. Her expression morphed into a smile as she smoothly fixed the situation. “That’s fine because I love to be handed things, so let’s trade.” She passed Phil her glass that she’d brought from the table and then took Tony’s as she relayed the folder to him.

Tony stared at her in disbelief for a moment before resigning himself to his fate. He sighed, and looked down at the folder, droning out, “Official consulting hours are between 8 and 5 every other Thursday…”

“This isn’t a consultation,” Coulson replied smoothly, unphased by Tony’s attempts at evasion.

“Is this about the Avengers?!” Peter blurted out, everyone in the room turned to him. Silence. The poor boy flinched slightly before adopting a bashful expression, his cheeks turning red as all the eyes fell to him. At this point, MJ had abandoned her pretense of reading to make her way over to the group, curiosity written all over her face. She showed genuine expression of interest at Peter’s outburst. The kid tried to backtrack, “Which I…” he laughed nervously, his eyes flicking to Tony, “know nothing about, obviously…”

Tony gasped in mock disbelief. “Peter! I told you that in confidence.” He winked at the kid, easing his worry before he turned back to Phil. “The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, and I didn’t even qualify, did I?” He started walking over to his desk across the room, with Peter scrambling to follow close behind. Pepper rolled her eyes at his antics. Tony looked over his shoulder and gestured casually, “Yeah apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, don’t play well with others?”

“Not true!” Peter called out, punching his dad lightly. “Remember we said no being mean to yourself.” He locked gazes with Tony and narrowed his eyes with playful seriousness. Pepper looked proudly at her son; he really had done wonders for Tony’s tendency for self-loathing. 

Tony looked lovingly at his son and ruffled his hair, speaking gently, “You’re right kid.” Then he puffed up his shoulders and grinned, “I’m just too awesome, huh? Too good for the Avengers?”

Peter nodded firmly. “Definitely,” he declared as he looked at Coulson, seemingly daring him to contradict him. The man did not. Even someone he cared for deeply would become somewhat of an enemy if they rubbed his father the wrong way.

Tony called Pepper over and she looked apologetically at Phil as she hurried across the room to meet him, leaving Phil alone in the center of the room as the Stark family went off to the side. MJ went back to her book with narrowed eyes and Coulson, not wanting to stand awkwardly, took this opportunity to walk over to introduce himself. He extended a hand with an inviting smile but didn’t even get his name out, “Agent—“

“Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD,” Michelle interrupted, not looking up from her book, “also known as the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. That’s a mouthful, I get why you abbreviated it. You love Captain America, swimming, and hanging out with Peter. You are also completely incapable of resisting his puppy-dog eyes.” Then she looked up and gave him a wince of assurance, “but don’t feel bad. Only me and Pepper can.”

“Oh,” Phil said in shock, lowering his hand, still trying to register every word she had spit out at a million miles per second.

MJ noticed the hand but didn’t offer to shake. Instead she said, “I’m Michelle Jones, Peter’s best friend, which is how I know all of that stuff about you.” She said that last bit with some pride, a smirk on her face.

One must understand, Phil Coulson was not shocked or intimidated easily. He’d been involved with SHIELD for nearly two decades now, and he’d seen some crazy things, most recently a demigod alien from Norse mythology. But this girl, she kind of scared him. In a good way.

He hadn’t recovered from his shock before the small Stark family made its way back over, Tony and Pepper looking sad and guilty, and Peter with a face of pure disappointment. The boy moved away before Tony could ruffle his hair apologetically, MJ noticed. He plopped down next to MJ and didn’t say a word, just stared at his hands as he fiddled with them in his lap. She elbowed him again, albeit a lot more gently this time, sensing something was wrong, “Hey, loser, what’s going on?”

Peter didn’t answer, Tony did. He gave her a small frown, “Sorry Michelle, but there's been a slight change of plans to the itinerary this week. I know we were supposed to stay for another week, but you, Pete, and Pepper are going to head to Washington D.C. a little earlier to hang out with Rhodey and we're gonna have to put the fun stuff on hold.” He said it in an upbeat tone, but Michelle merely raised an eyebrow. MJ knew that just because an adult said it with a happy tone did not mean it was good news. Maybe it fooled other people, but not her. It was just another trick older people did to younger kids. 

“And you?” she asked simply, defending her best friend who was still silent next to her. 

Tony sighed, dropping the act as he glanced at Peter. His tone was nothing but cheery, “I’ve got to head out tonight. Agent Coulson was kind enough to drop off some homework for me to do. Jerk,” he added. 

The man being targeted scoffed, but Michelle’s gaze was on the older Stark. She frowned. MJ knew for a fact that not only had Tony been looking forward to this vacation for months, but Peter too had been bouncing off the walls in excitement during the week leading up to this. She knew for certain that Stark would never disappoint Peter like this unless…

Something big was going down, and odds were she and Peter weren’t going to find out until it was too late. 

* * *

A couple days later, Peter frowned as he gazed outside the car window, getting a headache from following the cars that passed slowly by. He’d only been to New York a few times, he should be excited right now as he drove through the streets, but instead, he was just sad. His mom and dad were supposed to be in the car right now too, but Peter hadn’t seen his father in a while; he was off who knows where, probably saving the world, and his mom had been in DC for the past couple times. She’d nearly taken him and MJ with her, but they’d managed to convince her to let them come a little later so they could at least have some of the time that had been planned in the city. 

Of course there was a catch. Happy was staying behind with them.

Peter sighed. He loved Happy, he did. He was as much his uncle as Rhodey was. But he was a serious party-pooper, which made Peter confused as to his name. He thinks his dad nicknamed him as a joke and it just stuck, but Tony denied ever doing that. Of course...Tony could be teasing him too; that happened often. 

Today, the conditions were that they both had to stay in the car. They could only look around outside, not get out and actually have fun, cause that “wouldn’t be safe.” So they were stuck inside this automobile, looking at all the cool stuff from behind glass. Great vacation.

Peter really wished his dad were here. He always made things more fun.

MJ was sitting in the backseat with him, but instead of watching the people outside, she was once again reading her book. Peter didn’t mind that much, but she did give him a sideways look whenever he sighed. The divider between them and Happy was down, and Happy would occasionally make a comment about what they were passing, which was helpful to keep Peter’s attention...for the first twenty minutes. It soon got boring. Currently they were on their way back to Stark Tower to pack and then they were leaving for D.C. 

Peter sighed again, slumping in his seat which earned him an annoyed glare from MJ. Twiddling his thumbs a bit, he ran a hand through his curls and twisted his fingers around his hair, a habit he had picked up from Tony. He wondered what his father was up to right now. Probably something a lot more fun.

* * *

Steve Rogers stood in the room that had once held Loki’s cell. Now it was just empty. No- not just empty. Gone. Completely and utterly gone, and it had taken Thor with it. But that wasn’t the worst part. 

Tony leaned against the rail beside him. “Was he married?” Steve called, knowing he didn’t need to explain who he was referencing. 

Stark didn’t even glance at him. “No.” He paused for a moment looking thoughtful. “There was a…cellist, I think.”

Steve looked down. Somebody was going to have to tell her. That was always the hardest part, for him. Having to tell the friends and loved ones that someone they cared about deeply wasn’t coming home. “I’m sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he said, turning. He could tell that Stark was taking this hard, harder than Steve would have expected. Phil Coulson seemed like a friend to Tony, even if they hadn’t had a telling relationship.

The man nodded slightly, but then glanced over as if he was embarrassed to show even that much emotion. “He was an idiot,” he cursed with a shake of his head, shocking Steve. Had he been right about Stark? Was he really so arrogant?

“Why?” Steve asked incredulously. He recoiled at the man’s attitude, “For believing?”

“For taking on Loki alone,” Tony corrected with a grumble. Oh, Steve thought. He’s grieving, he realized. Albeit in a strange way. 

“He was doing his job,” Steve pointed out, hoping to draw Stark out even more. The man was all flashy smiles and sarcasm, but Steve knew- or at least hoped there was more to the playboy behind the armor and sunglasses. Maybe not.

Tony Stark scoffed and in that split second, Steve saw Howard Stark in his place. It was a weird flashback. Tony’s low voice snapped him into the present, “Ugh, he was out of his league. He should’ve waited, he should’ve…”

Stark trailed off, and Steve could see his pain as he walked towards him, sauntering down the stairs like he owned the place, even as he was hurting. He could even just hear the unspoken ‘I should’ve been there’. Guilt and grief were painful things, especially when they worked together. Tony was doing an impressive job of hiding his feelings, but Steve was starting to get little peeks of what was behind the helmet. 

“Sometimes there isn’t a way out Tony,” Steve argued, trying to imply some comfort and understanding in the words. Stark wasn’t the only one who wished he’d been there in time. Even if Steve hadn’t known the dead man for as long as Tony, he still shared a few conversations with him. Phil had been supportive, kind, and determined. He did his job well, and he had _hope_ , something that they desperately needed right about now.

Tony gave him a disbelieving look and walked past him, “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

He seemed like he didn’t believe it, because, Steve reminded himself, the man was always searching for a way out. It was denial of defeat, something dangerous as much as it was courageous. Steve had been that way before, but had learned to accept when he was cornered. Sometimes it was better to accept your fate, buckle down, and fight, then trying to sneak your way out of what was staring you in the face.

“Is this your first time losing a soldier?” he called after the man, without much thought. He was trying to keep the conversation going but he didn’t expect the rage on Tony’s face when he spun around at those words. 

“We are _not soldiers_.” The words weren’t shouted- Tony’s voice barely raised, but somehow they felt as if they had been screamed at the top of his lungs. That was the moment he turned to him in fury, and Cap's blue eyes narrowed. 

Steve heard the fear, guilt and grief that was hiding behind the mask of apathy. The eyes of a man who had seen more than he let on, been through more than he let show, were revealed, and Steve studied them, trying to cautiously learn more about his teammate. 

The two just stood there for a moment, Steve watching as Tony backtracked and visibly reined in his emotions, but said the next words with a full mouth of spite, “I’m not marching to Fury’s fife.” 

Finally, something they could agree on. Steve gave him a nod, “And neither am I. He’s got the same blood on his hands that Loki does, but right now we’ve got to put all of that behind us.” Steve watched as Tony’s eyes shifted. He was thinking, he could practically see the gears turning. Steve continued, hoping Tony could figure something out that he couldn’t. “Loki’s going to need a power source, so if we put together a list of possible—”

“He made it personal.” The tone of the genius’ voice as he interrupted this time was different. Steve sighed. Again, Tony’s ego was getting in the way. The world had to revolve around him, didn’t it?

“That’s not the point—” he tried to say to keep them on some sort of track but Tony cut in again. 

The man shook his head, like he knew what Steve was thinking and was denying it. “That _is_ the point,” he insisted, pointing at the ground like he was starting on something solid and building….analyzing... Tony’s eyes flicked back and forth again, his words coming out faster, “that’s _Loki’s_ point. He hit us all right where we live, why?”

Steve paused for a moment. He couldn’t see where this was going but Tony clearly did. “To tear us apart,” he said slowly. His tone was how slightly questioning as he watched his maybe-almost teammate get a hold of a thread and start pulling, one hand at a time as he tightened his grip. 

“Yeah, divide and conquer is great and all, but he knows he has to take us all out to win. _That's_ what he wants,” Tony hissed. He was thinking like a villain- trying to get into their enemy’s head on the grand scale. Grand scale- something Tony was the king of pulling off. The man was getting somewhere- that thread had become a rope- and it was slightly fascinating as he described the god that they were trying to defeat. “He wants to beat us. And he wants to be seen doing it.” The realization hit Steve like a punch to the face. Tony continued, nodding with him, “He wants an audience.”

“Yeah, I caught his act in Stuttgart,” Steve said dryly, but Tony was on a roll now. He bounded up the stairs, spinning around, thumbing his fingers on the railing as he kept going. 

“But that was just previews, this— this is opening night! And Loki— he’s a full-blown diva,” he said to Steve, throwing his hands out to express his words. “He wants flowers, parades, a monument built to the sky with his name on it—”

The mask dropped. And nothing prepared Steve for the complete terror that enveloped Tony's face without it. The forced apathy was gone, leaving pure horror and realization in its wake. Steve would have figured he would have been happy, thrilled to have cracked Loki’s code, to reveal insight to the game their enemy was playing, but he was missing something. This was personal, like Tony had said, but the word had a new meaning.

This was _personal_.

“Son of a bitch,” Tony whispered flatly, and a second later the man was sprinting out of the room with a speed that had Steve questioning whether or not Howard might have made his son a super soldier as well. 

“Stark!” he called, chasing after the man who was making a beeline for the workroom he’d left his suit in. The man didn’t reply, but Steve heard the frantic murmuring coming from him.

“Not them, not them... Please, not Peter, not Peter…” the man practically swore to himself. Steve followed him in confusion, brow knit as he jogged the winding path the man ahead of him was taking. 

Stark brought his wrist to his ear after pressing a small bracelet, swearing after a few moments and dropping it slightly. “JARVIS?” he demanded, his voice cracking, and Steve heard the accented voice of a man echo from the device. 

_“Yes sir?”_

“Send a message to Happy and Pepper. Tell them to get out of New York as soon as possible,” Tony said, slamming his fist down on the nearest table in panic as he pleaded with as much intensity as one could muster, “Reach them, now. Tell them to drop everything- just get Peter out of there!”

Steve realized the implications a moment later. 

New York. 

Stark Tower’s arc reactor. 

He’d been bragging about the clean energy it created only hours earlier. 

Oh God. 

Loki was going to attack New York.

But Peter- who’s- who was Peter?

The man was already moving towards the door. He never thought, he just lunged head first, as always, but this time, Steve didn’t doubt his intentions. He did doubt, however, his levelheadedness. Tony was impulsive. Steve was not. And this was not the time to have a repeat of the conversation during their first encounter. 

_“We need a plan of attack!”_

_“I have a plan. Attack.”_

Not this time. They had lost then. They could not lose now. Steve was determined to balance this. They were a team. Or more accurately, they needed to be a team. 

“Stark!” He jumped in front of the man, forcing him to stop and look at him as they came to a fork in the hallway. Steve put a hand out, hovering it in front of his chest, trying to make his look as gentle but as firm as possible at the same time. He was taken aback slightly when the man practically growled at him. 

“Get out of my way Rogers.” It was a threat. Wait no, (and this caught Steve off guard), it was a plea. It was- 

“I won’t ask again,” Tony hissed, when Steve didn't budge. 

“Tony,” Steve insisted, using his first name to try and get his attention. The man sat back on his haunches as Steve questioned with his eyes, keeping his breathing steady. “Just think about this for a se-”

Tony shook his head, moving forward the last inch of space, Steve’s hand hitting his chest as he snarled, “I don’t _have_ a second! I need to go, _now_.”

If they were wrong about this and Loki attacked somewhere else, it would be too late. But there was something different in Tony’s eyes, a look he had never seen before, and something tugged in Steve’s gut, urging him to trust him. He took a breath. 

“You’re sure?” Steve asked firmly and quickly; they had to be certain. 

Some of the fire in Stark’s glare died as he nodded. “One hundred percent,” he whispered back, not blinking. 

Steve stepped aside and gave him a look of assurance, “Okay. I’m going to get Romanoff and maybe Barton. We’ll take a Quinjet and meet you there.”

This time, he saw the gratitude in Stark’s eyes as he nodded briefly before taking off down the right passageway while Steve took the left, heading towards the medbay and hopefully reinforcements. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaaaaa hope you liked itttttt! Thank you all so much for ur support :))) please leave a comment or kudos I love hearing from you guys! New chapter innnnnnn lets say 5 days i think that will be the usual....maybe 6....im trying to gauge school and stuff but also im about to get excited about everything because were ramping up speeeeeed as you can probably tell! Muahahaha action and danger is coming as it always is in the Stark family!  
> Protective Tony for the win, and Peter and MJ are adorable as always! As you can tell we are right around the time of the Avengers and you know whats coming next so drop ur socks and grab your crocks were about to get wet on this right.  
> Keep ur head up yall if life is tough, coffee is outstanding just an FYI and good luck with chaos!!! Also get sleep i heard thats good for you. Although im 99% sure sleep is fake because ive felt the same when i wake up after 4 hours when i do after 8 hours. JUST AN OBSERVATION dont kill the messenger. No dont take any of my advice i will 100% shut up now ANYWAY if youre still reading this....im so sorry XD  
> See yall soon!  
> I love you 3000 <3 <3


	4. Falling Into Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO LOVELY READERSSSSSSSS  
> tis saturday- wth no it isnt im an idiot. What day is it? Monday? No tuesday. Its tuesday. Im sane i swear. ANYWAY it doesnt matter what day it issss weve got another chapter for yalllllllllll <3 <3 this was my fav of stiltsroskos i wont lie, so i hope you enjoy :))) thank you guys so so much for all your hits and comments and kudos, it means the world and its so awesome that yall are liking the story so far.  
> Congrats, its ur first taste of angst on this ride youve started!!! Special occasion XD  
> Yall know the battle of New York well......now picture Peter running through the streets? What do you get? (sounds like a weird joke lol) CHAOS! Beautiful, original, chaos :)))) and a stressed Happy because hey that guy has been put through so much.  
> It is a five day weekend for me so thats nice except for the fact that like....i havent had a break yet? Why is it that im always busier on days off? That logic boggles my mind but WE THRIVIN  
> Coffee is fantastic. I had three cups yesterday. Dont tell my best friend she'll kill me. AnYwaY I need to watch Cobra Kai and Merlin (my two shows im watching and loving atm) But i was like AHHHHH gotta post?!?!?!?!  
> So enjoy this wonderful chapter, kudos to stiltsrokos amazing writing <3 <3 theyre INCREDIBLE really the master behind this gorgeous fic :)  
> Love yallll read on you awesome peeps

“Happy?” Peter’s voice was tiny as it reached the bodyguard’s ears, and he immediately glanced towards the boy through the rear view mirror, tearing his gaze from where he was looking out the window. Was that _fear?_ Peter was not scared easily; Tony Stark was his father. It took a lot to get under that kid’s skin. Something clearly had. 

"What's that?" Peter extended a slightly trembling finger towards Stark Tower. Happy's eyes followed it in confusion, ducking his head to look out the front windshield instead of the side where he had been previously looking. He'd seen a lot of crazy things as Tony's bodyguard and head of security, but this...this was definitely the worst. 

There was a dark, ominous, and rippling hole in space right above Stark Tower. A swarm just poured out from it, a never-ending swarm of...oh God... 

Honest-to-God aliens were spilling out of the sparking portal atop the building, shooting every which way, descending from the clouds in a dark cloud. Happy could just make out the flashy Iron Man suit among them, leaving a trail of explosions in its wake, ducking and weaving as he fired and blasted to protect the city.

"Dad-" Peter whispered quietly, hands pressed to the glass as he craned his neck up.

Ripping his eyes away from the unbelievable sight before him, Happy hit the brakes and shoved the car in park. He started unbuckling his seatbelt in panic, calling for the kids behind him to do the same. Peter and MJ both ripped off their seatbelts in obedience, their eyes wide, staying quiet out of fear or determination, or both. 

Happy shoved his door open, scrambling to grab the kids in the backseat who had rushed out of the car as well. They'd been in bumper-to-bumper traffic, and now that aliens were pouring out of the sky, they weren't getting anywhere in the car, and people were starting to get restless. Horns blared and there were crashes from behind them and up ahead, people ramming the backs to get out of the traffic. Pile ups would start and they would be trapped.

Trapped meant dead, Happy thought bluntly.

They needed to run. Around them, people were getting out of their cars as well, thinking like Happy, but they were staring up at the sky in shock and horror. 

As Happy got out of the door he gave the tower a quick glance as well. For right now, Tony was doing a good job at keeping them at bay, only a key few making their way past him but Happy knew it wouldn’t last. Soon enough the screaming would get worse, till it was almost defeaning, and then all hell would break loose as the world morphed to fire and rubble around them.

A stampede would start, and people who were running for their lives were dangerous. You lose all common sense and your grip of reality is torn ruthlessly from you unforgivingly when forced into a fight or flight instance. These kids would be shoved aside without a thought. 

Sweat beaded on Happy’s forehead. He needed to get them out of here as quickly as possible, or Tony would never forgive him. 

Heck, he’d never forgive himself.

* * *

Steve clutched the handle attached to the roof of the jet tightly, knuckles white as he gazed at the horizon through the cockpit windshield. He could be imagining things, but he thought he could make out the New York skyline and there was a dark cloud spreading across the top of it. He made his way over to Natasha as she piloted, her eyes narrowed. The words were caught in his mouth, bouncing around before he finally let them slip through.

“How well do you know Stark?” he asked, trying to satisfy his curiosity before they entered a war zone. 

“Better than most,” she replied, not even glancing at him. “What’s with the curiosity, Cap?”

Busted.

“When he figured out Loki was headed for Stark Tower, he panicked,” Steve said slowly. He hoped his tone conveyed what a big deal that was- Tony Stark panicking. If she knew him as well as she said she did, then he hoped she would understand. Tony Stark never panicked, or at least, he never showed it. But that wasn’t what he was primarily concerned about. 

“Then he mentioned the name Peter,” he added slowly, eyes trained on Romanoff, waiting for some kind of reaction. "Does that...mean anything to you?" 

Now that got her attention. She visibly stiffened in her seat and Steve watched her fingers curl tighter around the wheel as she tried to increase the jet’s speed even more, but they were already at max velocity. 

Clint who had been watching subtly, noticed her reaction as well. Knowing Natasha well and being the closest thing an assassin had for a best friend, his eyes widened as he turned in his seat to face the woman beside him. “Nat?” he asked tentatively, almost afraid for her reaction. 

She glanced briefly in his direction before focusing straight ahead. Her voice wavered only slightly, and it didn’t have the usual bite in it, it was softer. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Clint.”

Now his eyes were as wide as they could possibly be. Clint spluttered, “You’re kidding. There’s no way—“

“Hey, care to let me in this?” Steve interrupted, confusion plain in his voice as he looked back and forth between his team mates. 

“Peter is the proof that Tony isn’t just the vain, egotistical, narcissist that everyone seems to think he is.” There was respect in her voice. Her eyes shone in the same way he figured his had earlier, when he realized that there was more to Tony than the man let on. Natasha seemed to have known it for a while. But Steve still tried to interpret her riddle. 

Nat stayed focused on the now clearly-visible, approaching New York skyline ahead, heading for the growing cloud that spread across the sky like poisoned veins, small explosions peppering the blanket of darkness.

Steve waited in confusion, needing another hint.

Apparently Clint didn’t need any more nudging; he got it completely and Hawkeye sank back into his seat with a look of utter disbelief. 

Nat looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with Steve, realizing she needed to say it directly. Her voice was gentle, “Peter’s his son.”

Steve stood there, stunned for a moment. He didn't know what to think, and his mind spent some of his precious last moments of time to think, coming up completely blank. When he finally came to terms with it, he had to run it by himself again. Peter was Tony’s- and that was about as far as he got with his thoughts because now they were entering New York City. His focus honed in on the aliens everywhere instead, no time to process this new information but only shove the shock deep down as he furrowed his brow.

Nat contacted Tony, pressing a hand to her ear, her voice dangerously calm as she flicked a switch on the dash and raised an arm to push one of the blinking lights, “Stark, we’re on your three headed northeast.”

Steve saw Stark’s face project in the corner of the windshield as the video call continued, his voice sending ripples in the audio line underneath the hologram. Tony’s eyes were flicking back and forth as he fought, wincing every couple seconds and cursing under his breath. 

He looked annoyed and drawled, “What, did you stop for a drive-thru?" The three Avengers smirked a bit, Steve's a little stiffer as he stared at the man who he realized was a father. "Swing up Park I’m gonna lay ‘em out for you.”

"Hang on to something," Natasha said and Steve reached up numbly to grab the top bar as she clicked a light above her head and spiraled. They swooped down and Clint pulled the triggers on his handle, the ship firing, turning sideways and taking a steep dive into one of the main streets of Manhattan, a barrage of bullets making contact with the aliens that turned into a mess of fire in their wake.

The jet rightened and Steve curled his grip harder on the bar above him since it had loosened due to the previous conversation. He reached and pulling his helmet down over his head, grabbing his shield and slipping his arm through, tightening the straps. His heart started pumping, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The battle was on.

* * *

Peter was scrambling to get out of the car, hands pushing past the door, feet hitting the ground hard, making his shins sting. MJ was already out, leaving her book behind and Happy was reaching in to grab him. He stared at the world around him that was a different New York than it had been a second ago, filled with terror and horrifying sounds that made his ears ring and his mouth twist into a frown.

Happy’s hand clasped his and he already had a hand against MJ’s back, slightly curled in her shirt. The girl was looking at Peter with wide eyes- not fear- just...focus. 

"Come on, Pete!" she shouted with a wave of her hand.

“Go!” Happy yelled, pointing for cover, his suit flapping behind him in the wind. Before he’d taken two steps, Peter froze, cursing himself for being so forgetful. Tearing his hand out of Happy’s with a sharp yank, he made a dash back for the car.

"PETER-" Happy screamed his name, desperately reaching for his arm, but he slipped past him, weaving through people and diving towards the already open backseat. He could hear Happy gaining on him as he lunged forward, splayed across the back seat, reaching for the backpack on the floor.

Just as he closed his hand around the strap, he felt strong arms grab him around the waist, yank him out of the car, and throw him over a shoulder. Happy spun on his heel and started running, moments before one of those alien chariots flew overhead. A line of blasts flew from their guns and it pounded the street before blowing up the car Peter had just been inside. The vehicle flipped and caught on fire, landing on the car in front of it, glass shattering and metal letting out a loud groan.

He gulped as he felt the heat of the explosion warm his face and ducked into the man’s shoulder, hands thrown over his head. In a flash, Happy had grabbed MJ around the waist and pulled them both behind another car, crouching as the line of aliens flew over them, kicking up dust and wind and firing. 

"Don't look," the man said sharply, but the sounds were telling enough. The shots from the chariots peppered the street and people screamed, car alarms going off as some were engulfed in flames or tossed into the sidewalks. 

Happy and the two kids in his arms coughed from the smoke, slowly getting to their feet, Peter squirming to get out of Happy’s grip, still clutching his bag. 

“Okay, move, move,” Happy said harshly, pointing towards the subway, letting MJ down; he knew she wouldn’t try anything crazy like Peter. She always had a smart and sensible head on her shoulders. The boy he was holding tightly in his arms was too much like his father. 

MJ moved forward as a group of people rushed past, nearly trampling her but she slipped into the crowd that was rushing for the steps and made it underground. Happy ran around a car that had just skidded into another, pushing off of the hood to keep himself standing, seeing the air bag deploy on the inside. Multiple accidents were happening all across the road, you could hear them even if you couldn't see them. Peter heard and watched a mess of glass shattering, horns, car alarms, pounding footsteps, and screams, the loud roars of chariots swooping down the streets, blasts breaking up the sidewalks and roads in their wake. 

Happy’s gaze was set and he rushed him to safety, following Michelle, shoving through people to reach the flight of stairs into the subway. Underground, it was loud, panicked, and crowded, with at least a hundred terrified people crammed inside. Peter had never been claustrophobic, but with all the hot bodies pressed against each other, he couldn’t help but wrap his arms tighter around the man’s chest and try not to listen to the screaming and crying that made his stomach flip. 

"MJ?" Finally breaking off to the side, Happy finally let Peter stand on his feet and they found MJ near the base of the stairs, pressed against the wall, firmly waiting. They met up and Peter clasped MJ’s hand, the girl returning the grip with a nod. They stayed shouldering the side, backs pressed against the cold stone, otherwise, they would have risked being knocked over by the rush of people.

Happy pulled them along with him, in the opposite direction of everyone else, grip firm on Peter’s wrist as he rounded the base of the stairs, settling down in the shadow of the underground steps and out of the press of people. The screams echoed here, and the ground still shook. There, he finally let them stop, deeming them out of danger for the moment.

Unfortunately for Peter, that meant they were safe enough for Happy to remember how he’d almost gotten himself killed. The bodyguard rounded on the young Stark, fury and fear etched on his face.

“Peter-” The boy flinched with just his name being shouted. He had never heard Happy use that tone before. The man’s gaze was fierce but there was an underlying look of concern. He was angry because he cared, Peter knew that. But Happy cared a lot...so there was a lot of anger. He shook the boy by his shoulders and demanded, “What the hell were you thinking going back for your bag? You nearly died! Don't you ever do that, you understand me? HEY!”

“I-- I just--” Peter stammered, not wanting to explain the real reason he’d needed it. He pulled his puppy eyes and his lower lip wobbled as he looked down in shame.

The man in front of him gave an exhausted sigh that broke off towards the end, relaxing his grip on his arms. “Your dad trusted me to keep you safe and so help me I’m not going to lose you!” Happy calmed slightly, and ran a hand through his hair, trying to relax. His hand hovered to clasp Peter’s head, patting it once, firmly, and he gave Peter a look.

Then he craned his head to glance over his shoulder, muttering, “Okay. Okay. Are you both okay?”

“Y-yes,” Peter nodded, gulping. 

MJ’s eyes were narrowed and she spoke in agreement, “Yes. What's going on? What are those things?”

Happy shook his head, "I- I don't know. But they're not from here and they're very dangerous. They will kill you, do you understand me? You both need to know that. You saw what they did to the street right?"

"Yes," MJ bobbed her head with a fierce gaze. 

"Happy, what about my dad?" Peter asked quietly. 

The man turned to look on him and his gaze softened. He pursed his lips, "Peter, your dad is Iron Man. If anyone can stop this, he can. And he's got help this time. The Avengers. Tony's gonna be fine."

Peter wanted to ask him to promise, but he knew he couldn't do that to Happy. And he didn't want false hope. He had learned that people promises things that they didn't really know the answers to, just to make people feel better. Peter didn't like that. He didn't like being lied to, even if it would hurt him in the long run. So instead, he gave him a nod, to make it look like his worries were cured from that speech. 

“Okay- I’m going to see if there’s someone in charge down here,” Happy said, looking down the hall. His head whipped back, making both of them jump as he pointed at the two of them, “and both of you are not going to move from this spot or I swear…” Happy didn’t finish the threat, and after one last nod and two quick hands on their shoulders, he strode off quickly.

As soon as Happy was out of sight, Peter dropped to his knees and started digging through his bag, opening it so fast he nearly broke the plastic zipper off. MJ knelt next to him, curiosity visible on her face as she palmed the dirty ground and watched. He knew she had guessed there was something in the bag the minute he had grabbed it. Peter would not have gone back for it unless it was something very, very important. Happy had overlooked that in his moment of parental concern. MJ had not.

Her eyes widened when she saw her friend pulling something shiny and metallic onto his wrist, tapping it twice as it glowed and formed around his hand from within the cover of the bag. 

“Peter…” she said in a warning growl, unable to believe that he could be this stupid. She was always the logical one, and she was furious with her best friend for even considering what she knew he was.

“I have to MJ,” he argued angrily, glancing at her over his shoulder. “People are getting hurt out there, maybe _dying_! I can help them!” The determination was evident in his voice, Peter would not be convinced otherwise. His mind was set, and she could not change it. But she could try in fear for her friend.

“It’s not finished!”

She could see the tell-tale hot-rod red and gold molding around his hand as he pulled it out of his bag, a barely noticeable whine coming from the lit repulsor. Peter had been working on the thing for weeks after scavenging it from a failed experiment of his dad’s.

He had told her about it while at her house one day, even shown it to her in its early stages, and forced her to keep it a secret because he knew his parents would be pissed if they found out he had swiped it. He had done his best to upgrade it and make it compatible to his size, but it still looked ridiculously large on his hand. 

“Have you even shot it before?” she asked incredulously, unable to stem her curiosity. She reached and brushed her fingers against the smooth side. 

“Yes!” Peter said indignantly, shooting her a look. He puffed up his chest and narrowed his eyes as he flexed his fingers, a small whir coming from the mechanical parts. “And it worked,” he said proudly, a glint in his eye that was shockingly similar to the look she saw in his father. 

She glared at the younger version of Tony Stark. At her gaze, he blanched and his cheeks reddened slightly before he looked away and mumbled, “It was just a small explosion. Nobody got hurt, except for a stack of papers that a rebound caused but I fixed that problem.” He moved his hand around some more, getting used to the weight, his curls falling over his eyes. 

MJ sighed. She knew Peter better than anyone. This wasn’t just about helping the people in danger, even if it was a big part of it (the idiot’s selfless streak was annoying sometimes). Even if you had no clue who Peter was, now was a better time than ever to say that he looked like a carbon copy of Tony Stark. Not just the glint, but the hair, the eyes, the personality- everything. 

And that was what this was about.

This was about the million times he had asked his father, Tony Stark, if he could go with him on patrols or missions, to help, to do more around the lab, and the disappointed cross armed silence right after his requests were denied had become a pattern.

“Peter, you don’t have to prove anything to your dad,” MJ said quietly. Then she waited, knowing her words hit the root of the problem when he froze, stopping his work on the gauntlet.

Peter was the son of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, two of the most successful and famous people in the world. One was a literal superhero, the role model and idol of millions, and the other was the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the world due to nothing but her own merit, an inspiration.

And he was just Peter ‘Hogan’.

Smart, yeah, but also timid, small, and the target of every bully he’d ever come across. Primarily one boy in particular. MJ didn't even think he knew Peter's name, but Flash never stopped picking on him. Not that Peter would ever tell his dad about the bullies- he was way too proud for that. He’d blame the bruises and scrapes on clumsiness and the red eyes on his allergies. He would never cry in front of them, not because he didn’t think he was allowed, like Tony had thought growing up, but because he didn’t want to. They had enough on their plates, and he didn’t want them to think they were failing him.

Peter loved his parents more than anything in the world. MJ knew that, which was why she didn’t say anything about the kids that pushed him around either due to his insistent request. But she knew how much Tony’s approval meant to him, and she knew that was what was instilling him with the urge to go out and fight. 

Her friend lowered his head a bit and she realized that although she had made a direct hit, he would not be swayed. Sometimes it wasn’t enough. Peter constantly felt like he needed to prove himself worthy of his incredible parents. MJ knew nothing she said was going to stop him, even if she had just exposed the reason he was going to something reckless and stupid. So she did the only thing she could do. 

“Okay, fine. Be stubborn. But I’m coming with you,” she said firmly. The declaration had Peter looking up in shock.

His eyes widened and he furiously shook his head, stuttering, “MJ, you can’t—”

"Watch me." An icy glare shut him up quick, as it always did. But that faded and it was replaced by a gaze that he rarely got to see because MJ rarely exhibited it. “I’m not gonna let some alien kill my best friend,” she said, and then got to her feet, extending a hand to him; he was crouched over his backpack on his haunches. “Let’s go, loser.”

Peter's lips curled into a smile and he clasped her hand with his, MJ pulling him to his feet. They started for the base of the stairs, leading back into danger. He slung his backpack over his shoulder as he did so and grabbed the railing. An explosion rocked the stairs as he started to climb them, sparks flying from above and bouncing down the stone steps. 

Something as a result of the bomb was blown across the street in their view ahead, a nauseating sound of impact following a second later out of their sight from the steps. Smoke swirled by in the wind, and a broken street sigh tumbled into the stairway. MJ and Peter parted as it skipped down the steps and landed with a clatter at the bottom, an awful scraping sound coming from the metal.

Milliseconds after, an ominous rumble shook the ground below their feet, causing Peter to nearly trip, and grab MJ’s arm for support. She looked at him, hoping that he would take this last chance to change his mind, but the boy had inherited the combined stubbornness of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. He shook his head when he saw her glance. He was going up there, and nothing would stop him. She pulled him back to the step he was on.

He continued up the stairs, MJ right beside them, and as he emerged onto street level, he couldn’t help but stop and stare for a moment in shock. He held the hand covered by the gauntlet close to his chest as he gazed in horror at the sight around him. 

The streets of New York had been turned into a warzone in a matter of minutes, flames littering everything in sight, the road cracked and blackened with blasts. Glass had shattered and the buildings were ripped apart, rubble littering the street and crushing cars. Even the air was thick with smoke, screams, car alarms, and explosions filling his ears. 

It was everything he had seen when they had ducked into the subway, just ten times worse. Peter did a full circle in utter terror, a lump building in his throat as he stared at the streets he had grown to love, now fallen victim to a battle that ruined and destroyed every inch. Though he could see his dad’s tower in the distance, and knew the man was nearby in an incredible suit that would protect him, he’d never felt more scared. Not for himself, but for his father. 

MJ grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side of the street where they were less exposed, snapping him out of his harrowing thoughts. Both of them ducked and covered their heads instinctively when a blast went off nearby, accompanied by several screams and the shattering of even more glass, if that was even possible, a part of a building tumbling off and setting off a car alarm as it landed, flattening the hood. 

Screams. 

People in trouble. 

Exchanging a look, Peter and MJ ran off to find the source of the terrified shouts and found a small family cornered in front of an obliterated cafe. Four aliens had backed them into the wall, pointing their guns at them, stepping closer through the broken glass. A man stood in front of a woman who was holding a child no older than two in her arms. The man had his arms spread wide protectively, and the woman was holding the child close, positioning herself between the monster and her son. 

Peter’s eyes narrowed as he focused. 

Just as one of the aliens signaled to open fire, the young Stark leveled his gauntlet-

_"Just like this kiddo, come here," Tony said, lifting his arm up straight as Peter stretched his fingers. "Don’t close your eyes, aim straight, arm locked," the older Stark pushed up on the bottom of his son's elbow and moved his hands to his waist, nudging his heel forward. "Feet planted, now twitch and pulse with your palm, the suit is you. It will know. Easy does it. Right on the X. Breathe."_

-and Peter fired three times.

He didn’t know if it was adrenaline or pure luck, because he had never practiced that much with Tony, but his shots took out two of the Chitauri with a chest and head shot (he almost missed when the recoil jerked his hand up), and the third went down with a shot to the thigh. Peter stumbled back in shock, his jaw dropping as he realized he had just killed someon- thing. Some _thing_. These were not human. 

The fourth alien spun as its companions went down and screeched in his direction before charging the boy, his gun glowing as he aimed it at Peter’s heart.

The gauntlet stalled slightly on the fourth shot, the blast dissolving midair and barely slowing the alien and Peter frantically fiddled with the exposed wires at the end. He looked up into the barrel of a gun and tensed, his heart stopping as he staggered back in terror. 

Suddenly, a metal pipe swung out of nowhere and brained the thing, half of it’s armor clattering to the ground, causing it to stumble forward, dazed for a split second. A second hit came, right to the head, knocking it to the side,  sending it straight into his line of fire. Peter quickly clipped the wires together and felt the gauntlet spark to life. 

He flexed his fingers and fired, his blast hitting the alien straight in the chest. It went flying back with a hole through it’s breastplate and Peter tipped backward from the massive blast he had just let out. Arms windmilling, a hand caught a fist of his jacket before he could topple over and yanked him straight again. 

Peter turned to look at MJ who was brandishing her new weapon as she uncurled her fingers from his coat. She too was admiring the pipe in her hand with satisfaction, nodding with approval as they walked over to confirm death. 

They were able to breathe when they saw the thing wasn’t moving, a smoking hole straight through its body. 

“N-nice hit,” Peter stuttered, staring at the alien. 

“Thanks,” she muttered thoughtfully, shifting it in her hands and spinning it once. “It may not be a lightsaber but it’ll get the job done.”

When Peter looked back at the cafe, the family was sprinting for the nearest office building. Peter lowered his arm and remembered Tony saying something about how you rarely got thanked. He understood that now and waited until they were out of sight to slip through the front door. 

He turned to look at MJ who had a small grin on her face and his chest grew warm with pride as he realized what they’d done. He’d been a hero, like his dad. Looking down at the steaming gauntlet, he blinked once, a stupid smile appearing on his face. He’d saved those people. It felt good. He felt proud of himself. But more importantly, this would make his dad proud, more than math and science ever could.

* * *

Loki tilted his head thoughtfully, knuckles white on the handle of his chariot as he flew across the sky above the street. His eyes were set and narrowed, his gold cape gleaming behind him in a furious trail, his dark brows knit. There was an unsettling smile plastered on his face as the battle raged around him, relishing the smell of smoke and fear. It brought him comfort. Everything was- 

An explosion made his gaze snap to the side without moving his head. His eyes searched dangerously. A neighboring chariot was tipping and it soon dropped out of the sky, a beam of light having struck the driver through the chest. It spiraled to the ground, taking out two more of the Chitauri in a ball of fire on the street. 

Iron Man. 

The sound and the likeness of the weapon made his chest heat with anger, his grip somehow getting tighter on the handle of his chariot. Loki recognized that beam anywhere, which was why he frowned when the blast was accompanied by a young cheer from below. He glanced below him over the side of his ride, and saw two children running off, a young boy with dark curly hair shooting another beam from his hand. 

If the boy had not turned, maybe Loki would have kept going, brushing off the instance. But turn the boy did, just enough that the god of mischief caught sight of his eyes. The chocolate orbs flashed with a unique look of determination, and the small boy's lips turned into a smirk as his dark curls blew across his face. Loki could see it all, from even his spot in the sky. 

It was incredibly reminiscent…and he suddenly pictured a certain Avenger. 

The trickster smiled. One more look and his thoughts were confirmed. Maybe it was because he was a god, but he was shocked no one had figured it out sooner. 

This turn of events was almost too perfect. He had once figured that Tony Stark had no weaknesses. The man hated himself almost more than Loki hated him, which made it hard for the god to get under his skin, or for anyone to, for that matter. He was egotistical, rash, irresponsible, and not a team player. There was nothing that someone could use against him, nothing could bring Iron Man to his knees. 

The universe had thrown everything at him and Tony Stark, had overcome it all. Because he had nothing to fear. No pressure point.

Or so he had thought. Clearly the man’s long list of enemies had missed something. 

Now he was given a perfect opportunity to test this new theory, to see if the great Tony Stark had a heart. If the man was going to be brought to his knees in any way, this was how. And Loki was going to be the one privileged in doing it. 

He signaled his driver to take him to the street, calling the nearest Chitauri to him as he did so. The smile on his face went unmatched, worse than it was before. H e vaulted over the side of the chariot and dropped to the ground about two blocks ahead of where the other had been shot down, cracking the pavement as he did. 

His helmet flashed in the sun that somehow snuck through the clouds of smoke, but his eyes gleamed even brighter. He raised himself from where he had been down on one knee, bringing his gaze up and setting his shoulders back. 

Loki held up a hand and left his escort waiting, walking through the fire, dead center in the street, alone. The beam of the weapon that Loki had grown to hate was unmistakable about a block down, as well as the absolute foolishness of its carrier. 

There was another Stark on this battleground, he was sure of it. 

A weakness. 

A target. 

Walking towards him. 

He would gladly meet him halfway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TADAAAAAAAAAAA  
> so weve got Loki coming upppppppppp next chapter is gonna be crazy and next chapter is where the prewritten chapters stop and i *has a panic attack* officially take the reins. So I will be writing from scratch so im sorry if it takes a little longer to post??? Not sure on chapter lengths??? or anything :))) I am in this boat right along with you guys so just hang in there with me i promise well be okay haha  
> How are yall doing, i didnt ask in the first note. Drop a comment hows life i love hearing from you guys :)))) i hope you liked the chapter and are hanging in there with school and life and anything else crazy go on, if you need some motivation i gotchuuuu  
> ANYWAY ill see yal next time :))))))))) thank you again for all your support and have an amazing awesome day  
> I love you 3000 <3


	5. Into The Lion's Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO LOVELY READERS  
> WHATS UP  
> ive had coffee. You can probably tell. IGHT THIS ONE IS INTENSE ( i hope you like the chapter name lol we are trudging not so calmly along the story of lion king teehee ) and in this chapter we are ramping up big time oh oh ooooh ohhhhhh (if you get that i love you)  
> ANYWAY i hope you all are doing well, strap in for some loki, peter and protective tony as well as steve who i am being nice to. You can thank stiltsrosko for that XD  
> If you havent watched cobra kai, go watch it.... its amazing. Im totally not trying to get back into karate.....  
> anywayyyy I will watch Wanda Vision soon i promise haha ive heard good things. I hope everyone is doing well, this weekend went by warp speed- anyone else feel that way? I rly dont want school tmrw *big sigh*  
> OKAY POSITIVITY  
> this is probbsssss my fav chapter so far *kudos to stiltsrosko* and i am officially taking the reins *salutes* starting from the last bit XD  
> Read on you awesome people!

Peter maneuvered around a car, fiddling with the wires of the gauntlet once again. It had been sparking more and more, small burns appearing on the side of his palms. He grit his teeth and continued to yank at the different parts, keeping his head clear as he tried to listen to his father's voice in the back of his head, calling out helpful tips and reminders on the structure of the gauntlet. Tony wasn't here but Peter always could call on his advice when he needed it, like he had a hard drive in the back of his head with sayings from his father. It was useful. 

“You can fix it, right?” MJ demanded, still holding the pipe as she hopped over a piece of building and stamped out a small fire without fear. She watched Peter and saw him stick out his tongue in concentration and knew it was a tough fix. He only did that when he was really stuck, but she hoped she was wrong, even a little bit, because that blaster was the only thing keeping them alive. 

Peter kicked aside broken glass and winced, checking out the wiring and panels on the gauntlet that he knew like the back of his hand but still had to work to figure out, “Yeah, but it won’t last much longer…” He knew that for sure. He saw MJ's shoulders tense and the girl pursed her lips, looking around. Their weapon was running low on power, they’d have to find cover soon-

“Peter!”

In the back of Peter's head, it sounded like his dad. It really did, and maybe it was his brain playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn it was. It's like that psychology fact that you can hear something that you want to hear instead of what it actually is. A lump in his throat formed when the actual voice shattered through what he was hearing, and Tony's voice faded from his ears.

Someone yelled from another street. Peter spun regardless, recognizing the voice, and he gulped as he stared at the man who was storming forward. Happy Hogan looked pissed, more than pissed. He was going to kill him. And MJ. Peter first though. 

“Uh oh,” he muttered, before he walked straight into MJ who’d stopped right in front of him just as she’d come around the pile of cars. Peter yelped, cradling their best defense to his chest as he stumbled back, quickly making sure he hadn’t damaged anything. “MJ, what-” He glanced at her from behind and when she didn't move, he frowned, walking forward to get to her side.

"MJ," he said again, tugging at her arm as he made his way around to face her in order to see what was wrong, only to see a wary gaze centered on… 

He followed her eyes and saw a man dressed in green and gold-- were those robes that were tossed around behind him in the wind? His helmet was just as strange, with two curved horns arching from it, contrasting his dark green eyes. 

Peter and MJ backed up a step, even though the man was smiling at them- no, just _him,_ not MJ. In fact, the man acted like Peter was the only one on the street. It was unsettling. Peter got a feeling that he would get if he thought he was being followed by his bully by the lockers. The gaze was focused on him like this mysterious man knew him.

Peter didn’t like it.

He didn’t like it at all. 

“PETER!” Happy yelled again, and when the boy squinted, he realized he had mistaken the emotion. It wasn’t anger, it was fear. The bodyguard was waving his hands, running towards them. The man in green ahead of them barely recognized his presence either, his gaze still trained on Peter, looking deep into his soul. He wasn't even worried about the fighting around him, the smoke, the screams- it was like none of it bothered him. Instead, it seemed like he enjoyed it. 

Out of pure Stark instinct, his brow set as his chest heated and Peter raised his gauntlet in determination, lightly lifting arm to protect MJ who he knew could take care of herself but he was determined to keep safe all the same. She had hefted her pipe, gripping it tightly, and they exchanged cautious looks. 

“RUN!” Happy screamed. 

The man still smiled, not threatened in the slightest. His grin made Peter shift his feet uneasily, his stomach flipping. This was not the kind of smile that his dad would give him and more like the smile Mr. Stane would give him. Peter had learned how to read people- Tony had taught him. He knew this was an enemy. The man’s voice confirmed and a chill ran down Peter’s back as he tensed, his eyes widening with fear.

The man spread his arms with his unsettling smile and called, “Hello there, children. Are you lost?” 

* * *

A distant scream met Steve’s ears just as he finished taking out a Chitauri squad, punching the last one in the face and kicking his shield into his stomach. It slammed into the ground, dead, and Steve dropped his fists, panting, when he heard the yell.

He immediately spun in the direction it came from, ripping his shield from the monster’s chest. He could tell it was a kid, and they needed help. There weren’t any first responders in that area, and no one else was nearby. It was in the thick of the fight. This could not be good.

He sprinted off, wind ruffling his blonde hair now free of its cowl that he had ripped off. He was honestly glad of its absence; it had been blocking a sliver of his peripheral vision, but it also hurt when he remembered Phil Coulson’s pride when he’d mentioned his input on the design.

A few moments later, he rounded a corner into another street where he’d heard the trouble. At least twenty Chitauri were charging two kids who were backed up against the side of a coffee shop, taking shelter behind rubble that had fallen. Somehow, the boy was expertly firing beams of light into the approaching aliens, dropping several before ducking back behind cover. It looked like the same blasts that came from Tony's gauntlet, but that was not Tony Stark. It was some kid and a girl with a pipe in her hands, and from what he could tell, it looked like he knew how to use it.

And to increase Cap’s shock, Loki himself stood in a landed chariot a few meters behind the charge, watching with a smile that meant nothing but bad news, closing in on the kids. The god was almost unaware of the destruction around him, his gaze purely focused on the boy that he was gaining on. What the hell did he want with him? 

Cap’s ribs ached but he increased his speed, vaulting over a car as he pushed himself faster, bringing his hand to his ear in order to immediately make contact with his team. “Guys, I have eyes on Loki!” he said furiously, launching himself off the top of a piece of falling building to put even a little distance behind him. “Ah- he’s on the ground and going after two kids with a squadron on 42nd and Madison!” 

A moment later, he heard Clint through the comms, his voice crackling, _“I can barely see you Cap. Stark, you're closest. Get over here.”_

Steve heard Stark’s confirmation as he reached the fight, protective instincts raging. Five enemies swarmed him once he got close enough and Steve fought them in a rage, slashing with his shield and throwing punches as hard as he could just so he could get through them. He wasn’t going to let those kids die. He couldn’t, even if it meant Loki escaped.

But before he could reach them, and despite Steve's scream of protest, a Chitauri lunged forward and clasped the boy’s leg, dragging him out from their makeshift cover. The child cried out in fear, and his companion, attempting to grab his hand, screamed, “Peter!” She missed by inches and was left on the ground, scrambling to her feet, her friend already a good distance away.

The kid thrashed in his captor’s grip, trying to swing the red and gold device on his right hand towards the offending grasp. The screams of panic and fear only lent extra strength to Cap as he slammed the last Chitauri into a wall and surged forward, throwing his shield with such force that it took the alien’s head right off it’s shoulders. The dead Chitauri dropped, and so did the boy it released from it’s dead hands, who hit the ground hard on his side, falling a couple feet. 

Steve could apologize for that later, he just needed him out of the hands of that alien.

Cap figured the boy would stay down in terror and shock, but he was up within seconds to Steve's surprise, scrambling forward and trying to get away. Before he could even get a step closer, another Chitauri swooped in and overpowered him, continuing to drag the boy along by his ankle.

He didn't know why, but they were clearly going for the child and Steve’s heart clenched as he lept clean over a car and ran for his shield, searching in a panic for the boy who was quickly lost from view as aliens swarmed the street. Steve rolled and scooped up his shield, his anxiety for the child skyrocketing. 

As he spun he was shoved back, body slammed by one of the aliens. Cap swung, using his shield to deck the nearest Chitarui firing at him before knocking one’s gun out of his hand and launching him into the windshield of a car. He rushed to where he’d last seen the kid, slashing and whirling among the aliens, following the sporadic beams of light that came at longer and longer intervals amidst the chaos of the army that seemed to be swarming around their prey.

Between his shield, his adrenaline, and the kid’s occasional fire, the Chitauri didn’t last long, but he could hear more coming only a block or two away, and he was still concerned about Loki’s part in all this. Why was he involved? Why were they going for this innocent boy? The second they’d thinned out a bit, Steve blinked frantically to center in on the kids. The girl had just swung a pipe, knocking one of the aliens flat on his back, but the boy--

Steve’s breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a beat. Loki had just picked the boy up from the ground, and was pressing him against him as a human shield, arm wrapped around his chest. Cap roared in outrage and the boy’s eyes found him in that instant, half a block away.

Time slowed as their gazes locked.

The child’s eyes radiated pure fear and Cap let out a sound of desperation, frozen where he was for half of a precious second. The brown eyes somehow seemed familiar as he stared into them in panic. That feeling of familiarity it just heated Steve’s chest more as he ripped his feet from where they had been glued to the ground and ran forward, desperately trying to get to him before they could reach the chariot.

He was closing fast, feet pumping, heart racing, but could only hopelessly watch as the device, the kid’s only defense, a red and gold metal on his hand, was ruthlessly ripped away from his hand as he struggled fruitlessly in the god of mischief's grip. 

The boy reached for it in near sobs, choking as Loki crushed it in his hand millimetres from his flailing arms. It shattered in his palm.

The kid screamed, “NO!” his fear turning into anger, and the voice sent shivers down Steve's spine. He watched as the boy raged, curling his fist, he clocked the man holding him across the face, kicking and yelling, trying to shove himself away. 

Steve took a running jump and lunged upward once he got close enough, barely missing the back of the chariot. Loki was too high, throwing the remainder of the boy’s weapon over the side of the railing to the super soldier he left in the best below.

As a last ditch attempt, Cap threw his shield, knowing that it wouldn’t hit the kid; Loki wouldn’t let it. His aim was high; he should have aimed for the chariot but his emotions got the better of him and it spun towards the god of mischief himself. To his dismay, Loki batted it away instantly. It cluttered to the ground and Steve skidded to a stop beneath him as his chariot got higher into the sky, as if the man inside was taunting Steve. He had the boy with him not even fifty feet up and there was nothing Cap could do. 

Steve’s eyes were ripped from the innocent kid who was staring at him, pleading, begging, over the side of the chariot, and instead bore into his enemy’s as Loki addressed him with a cocky drawl. 

“Tell Stark I look forward to a talk,” the trickster called. The boy cried out in pain and fear as Loki forcefully turned him forward with a grip on his shoulder, easily pinning the struggling child against the railing as he flew off.

Steve stepped forward, breathing hard. His shield stopped spinning from where it had landed a couple feet away and with that he dropped to one knee, his head sinking to his chest. There was something glinting in the sun and Steve miserably reached for it, picking up the now easily-recognizable despite half shattered, Iron Man gauntlet from the ground. What the hell?

He turned it in his palm and that’s when it hit him. 

The pieces clicked together in his mind, and he almost wished they’d stayed separate. 

Loki’s interest. 

The familiar eyes. 

The gauntlet in his hands. 

His hair. 

His mannerisms. 

Even the voice. 

Why the heck a kid his age would be out in the streets fighting aliens instead of hiding. 

Why he would have a gauntlet similar to Tony's. 

Peter...

_"Not Peter-"_

_"No no no no-"_

Peter Stark. 

Steve held the gauntlet in his hands and just stared at it for a second as it all clashed together. Oh God. He numbly registered the worried voices sounding through the comms channel, getting louder and louder, but was unable to respond. His eyes blurred and he realized it was tears that was impacting his vision; he had just let Loki, the most evil person he knew get away with a kid, Tony’s kid. 

He _felt_ more than he heard the heavy landing of the Iron Man armor moments later, quickly followed by a worried “Steve?” when he still didn’t react. Steve could barely lift his head. Tony had arrived. 

He only started to shake the shock off when he heard Stark’s name called by the girl as she ran over. He stood slowly and turned, watching his teammate as she approached. The man, not soldier, _man_ , went completely still when he saw her. Moments later, Stark rushed over to her, kneeling down to her level with a quick cry of, “MJ?” 

Visor flipping up as he crouched, Tony placed his hands on her shoulders as she clutched at his arms, shaking, her face dirty, bright eyes shining with fear.

“Michelle, Michelle, you okay?” he said worriedly, cupping her cheek and looking her over for any visible sign of injury. Steve had never seen him that gentle with anyone. 

The girl nodded, shaking, “Yes but- but-”

“Where’s Peter?” Tony’s face fell and he gripped her shoulders tighter. His voice was weak, but loud. He shook his head, “Oh God- tell me he’s safe. Tell me he’s with Happy. Please!” he begged her. 

MJ shook her head, pointing behind her, “Happy’s back there, he’s hurt! He found us when the Antler Guy did, and held them off with Peter.” 

Steve and Tony both followed her finger from opposite sides of the street to see the unconscious form of a man behind the rubble the children had been taking cover behind. He was bleeding from a cut on his head, but otherwise looked mostly unharmed. That must be Happy. He was breathing, Steve could see, but it didn’t lessen his pain.

“Peter? Pete held them off-” Tony said breathlessly, storming forward. “How on earth did he hold them off?” the frantic father asked, gaze only pausing for a moment on Happy’s form, leaving MJ's side when she gave him a nod of assurance. He crouched to check his pulse and breathed a short lived sigh of relief before searching for his son. 

MJ was shaking in shock, blinking in eyes that weren’t tearful, just wide as she watched the man pace and spin. Steve was standing numb; he hadn’t spoken a word to the man who was turning in circles, his breathing getting more rapid by the second.

Tony Stark’s voice was broken and worried as he cried, “Where’s Peter?” And then louder, furious with the silence he roared to anyone who was listening, “Can someone please tell me, _where the hell my son is!_ ”

“Stark,” Steve called softly, licking his lips and finding his voice, even if it did come out as a croak. The man spun towards him in hope, but that was the exact opposite of what Steve was offering him. His hand trembled as he held the gauntlet out in front of him with a sorrowful expression on his face.

The man’s face was blank and for a second he didn’t move. Then Tony’s expression broke and Steve watched as his entire world came crashing down behind his gaze. Then another expression came over Tony’s face. His mouth that started to form the word ‘no’, and ‘Peter’ immediately slammed shut. 

He swallowed and surged forward as if making up lost time, but the minute he took the cold metal in his armored hands, he froze again. 

“Oh- God,” he whimpered, his voice breaking towards the end. Pieces of the gauntlet fell apart in Tony’s palm and the man blinked rapidly, staring at it in disbelief. He still hadn’t breathed. A few moments were spent in silence as the two watched the father register what had happened. "Where the hell did he get this- never should have put him-"

"Loki said he wants to talk," Steve rasped out. If he hadn’t been watching Stark’s face so closely, he would have missed the moment that the disbelief turned to pure rage. The transformation was so quick it was a bit frightening, like a furious flip of the switch. "Tony, I'm sorry- I-"

"I know." Tony breathed again and filled his lungs shakily, and new man looked up at Steve who nearly took a step backward out of fear. But the anger was not directed towards him. “Which way did Loki go?” he growled, the faceplate snapping shut over his blood red eyes, the repulsors warming in preparation for takeoff, searing the ground beneath him, hands already curled into fists tighter than the metal would allow. 

Steve summoned the strength to point and Stark was immediately off before he could say another word. Their enemy was a dead man walking. Steve had never seen that much rage on anyone’s face in his entire life, and he had lived a long life, experiencing enough hate and violence for an eternity. The look had not helped his guilty conscience, but the expression hadn’t been aimed at him for that long, and it was misdirected fury.

Steve almost felt bad for the god that he knew Tony was going to hunt down and rip apart piece by piece. But then he remembered Peter’s terrified face and the cry of pain he had let out when dragged away. And then he remembered the fact that he had been the one who watched the god fly away with the kid in his grasp. He hopes Tony kills him, in fact, he wants to help. 

But then he was reminded that there were still people here that needed his help. He turned to Michelle, who was facing slightly away from him from where she had just stopped by Happy's side, her fist tightening and loosening on the pipe she was carrying in a steady rhythm, barely concealed worry blanketing her face. She seemed like the type of kid who was very logical, and did not show emotions. From her terrified scream, she was probably Peter’s friend, and she clearly felt just as guilty and worried as he was. 

Steve reached his shield and bent down with a groan and a hand to his knee, tired not physically, but emotionally and psychologically. He was overwhelmed, but he couldn't let that stop him. He clicked it into his back before making his way over and bending down at her side.

“Hey Michelle, or um, MJ?” he said quietly, stuttering on his words as he searched to lock gazes with her. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to use her nickname since they had just met, and he was right.

“Michelle,” she corrected nearly immediately, her voice cracking. She glared but the anger was not meant for him but herself. 

Steve nodded in respect and repeated, “Michelle. Tony will get Peter. So let’s get you and… Happy...” _What a weird name,_ he thought, “somewhere safe, okay?”

She nodded numbly, still clenching and unclenching the pipe. He steered her over to the coffee shop entrance with a hand on her shoulder before he stepped back and planted a kick on the center, immediately breaking the door open. There was a small group of people huddled in the back behind several tables. They were more than willing to look after a little girl and an unconscious man when Captain America asked them to. 

He was just turning to leave when a voice called out from behind him, “Captain Rogers!” He looked back to see Michelle looking at him, no fear in her eyes, just worry and concern. Her fists were balled and he took his shield down from his back, slipping his arm through the straps as he locked gazes with her.

“Good luck,” she finished. Steve nodded to her, and she ducked back into cover. He turned back to the doorway and steeled himself before running outside, looking for the next fight.

* * *

Everything was red, and Tony knew it wasn’t just because his combat settings tinted his display in the color. He was shaking inside his suit, his breathing layered and strangled, tears steaming against his eyes. His hands were clenched into fists and there was a horrible lump in his throat. He felt like he was going to throw up and pass out at the same time, but the adrenaline, the red hot anger that was running through his veins shoved all that aside and urged him faster. 

Loki had his kid.

Loki had Peter. 

Loki had his world.

“Does anyone have eyes on Loki?” he practically yelled over the comms. The others wisely didn’t comment on his furious tone, some still unsure of the reason, merely responding negatively as he frantically flew in the direction Rogers had pointed him in, taking out alien after alien in his rage with flicks of his finger. He had never felt this way in his entire life. And that was saying a lot, because Tony had been through hell. This was worse.

This failure of a search went on for several minutes before finally-- _“I’ve got eyes on Loki. He’s on my six headed your way Clint. Tony, get to Barton's position.”_

Tony immediately banked a corner, nearly giving himself whiplash- not that he cared; he could be half dead and would still fly to get to his son. He shot down the street to Barton faster than he had ever flown.

 _PeterPeterPeterPeterPeter--_ was running through his mind on repeat. There wasn’t room for anything else beside the frantic instinct to _get to his son._

He blasted around a corner at such a high speed he nearly crashed into a building on the opposite side of the street, kicking off of it to stay in the air. Glass shattered behind him. He cursed and rightened himself, blinking- God, were those tears?- out of his eyes. He could see his tower and the portal above it directly ahead, and between them were two chariots weaving down the avenue-- were they firing at each other?

As he drew closer, he made out a head of bright, fiery, red hair in the first chariot, and it clicked. _Romanoff_. As he watched, a shot from Loki’s chariot struck not more than a foot to her right. _“Hawkeye, a little help?”_ he heard her voice call through the comms. 

_“I got him,”_ he heard the reply. A moment passed before a swear word burst out of the archer’s mouth and he gasped, _“Wait, shit, he’s got a kid in there, I can’t risk a shot.”_

Tony’s heart skipped a beat. He tapped into calms immediately and barked, “Barton, is he okay?”

A moment of bewildered silence followed that comment. _“The kid? Um, yeah he looks fine?"_

That wasn’t good enough for Tony who willed his boosters to fly him faster. His heart was beating out of his chest and he swallowed whatever was tearing at his throat, screaming through the voice crack layered with emotion, “Yes or no Clint, tell me if he is okay!”

 _“Yeah, yeah,”_ Clint said slowly, _“I mean, scared out of his mind, but unharmed. That evil bastard probably just doesn't want us to take his chariot down. Loki wouldn't hurt a kid-”_ A short pause followed that statement and Barton’s voice lowered. He once again clicked the pieces together, remembering their previous conversation on the ship. His voice dropped and he whispered, _“Hang on, oh sh- tell me that’s not Pe-”_

“JARVIS, mute,” he ordered. 

The god of mischief’s chariot took a sharp turn by the tower as he watched Loki leap from the side, sending Tony’s heart rate through the roof when he saw the small body the god was holding. Tony let out a yell in his helmet that made his ears ring as he dove downward, watching the man go into freefall with his son. JARVIS zoomed in as much as possible. 

Only when he saw their safe landing on the Tower balcony did he relax slightly, still flying at abnormal speeds in haste to get to his kid who was struggling in the man’s arms. They disappeared inside and Tony’s heart was ruthlessly ripped from his chest. 

Within twenty seconds, Tony slammed down onto the balcony and burst forward into the living room where he had been celebrating with his family the night before. The thought nearly made him throw up. Peter should be safe with Pepper, Happy, and Michelle, not being used as a human shield by a psychopath from Norse mythology.

Loki could hurt him.

Loki could- no.

He wouldn’t do anything to Peter. He wouldn't stoop that low. And besides, Tony would kill the man first.

Stark had never applauded himself as a father, he was always self critical, but right now, he knew there was nothing that would stop him from getting his son back and it instilled him with determination. Nothing would stand in his way. Not Loki, not the entire Chitauri army. Whoever was holding his kid was a dead man and he was prepared to make sure the god permanently stopped breathing. 

* * *

Peter was trembling. His glasses were gone, probably shattered somewhere. They’d fallen as the Antler Guy had abruptly pulled him off the alien chariot thing. He’d thought they were going to die as they’d plummeted through the air, and he had let out a strangled scream but then the man had somehow landed on his feet, still holding Peter tightly against his chest. As soon as they were on solid ground again, Peter had resumed his struggling, but it was no use. This guy’s arm was super strong. 

"Let me GO!" He screamed, and he was only rewarded with a laugh in response. 

With his blurry vision, Peter saw the change in lighting as he was pulled into the building- the tower! He was in his living room now- the man was baiting his father...of course he was. Oh God. His dad had warning him this could happen. They had had the talk when he was younger, about what to do, to stay calm, and to watch his eyes once Tony got to him. They had whole conversations with their eyes sometimes. 

The sounds of the battle happening just below them dimmed just a bit too as the door shut behind him, and he squinted around, trying to get a better look at his surroundings as he was dragged forward. Before he could pinpoint anything, an unexpected shove sent him tumbling to the ground.

He twisted onto his elbows immediately and looked up in fear, squinting at the green-gold blur above him. The boy forced his limbs to move and backed away from the man as fast as he could, but his back hit the couch much sooner than he would’ve liked. 

A chuckle from the figure above him had him pressing his back into the couch as hard as he could, and a small whimper escaped his throat. 

The man knelt after leaning a scepter with a glowing blue orb in it against the couch and Peter tensed, gulping as he inched away from him. A hand shot out and grabbed his face, tightly gripping his chin as Peter let out a choked cry, forcing his body to calm beneath the grip. His head was turned against his will, side to side, the person in front of him smiling again. 

“You have his eyes.”

Peter’s gaze narrowed. Everyone told him that, but coming from the god in front of him, it didn’t seem like a compliment. His chin began to hurt due to the harsh grasp of the man and he pulled away, letting out a shaky exhale from his nose. 

“Peter, right?” the man asked with that same smile. Peter didn’t answer. The man nodded and ducked his head to his chest, thoughtfully, before he patted the child’s knee, Peter jumping from the contact. "I'm Loki."

"I don't care," Peter told him firmly.

The man ducked his head a bit and grinned, looking up in reassurance, "You're a lot like Stark. Don’t worry. As long as your daddy does what he’s told, you’ll be fine.”

“He’s gonna kill you,” Peter whispered, before he started to smile, lip curling. Tony always smiled when he hated someone, or when he was nervous. Peter learned it from him. “You’ve made a big mistake,” Peter said more confidently, giving the man a taste of his own medicine with a smirk he had seen for the entire chariot ride. 

“Well then I guess we’re all in for a treat,” Loki said happily. "Because I want him to come and try."

"Go to hell," Peter told him firmly. He had heard his dad say it, and it made people angry. There was nothing more he wanted than to make this guy angry, to have him stop treating him like a kid. it worked. The man's expression darkened. 

"You think your father is a good man, don't you?" he asked quietly. 

"Yes," Peter said instantly. He didn't miss a beat. Of course Tony was a good man. He was the best. He was everything Peter wanted to be when he grew up and more. 

"He's not," Loki told him, crushing all of his good thoughts. Peter's gaze snapped up in shock and the man nodded in disappointment. "He's a killer. He made weapons, that put so many innocent people at risk. Word of advice, kid. Fathers don't care about their sons. In the end, at least," the man told him fiercely, making Peter frown in fury. How dare he say that Tony didn't care about him? Everything his father did was for him, to protect him. He didn't know another son that was as close to his father as he was. 

"Maybe yours didn't," Peter sneered in retaliation, and waited for a response, holding his chin high. He wasn't expecting the slap. It wasn't hard, but it was enough to leave his cheek stinging and Peter flinched before he stared Loki right in the eyes and hissed, "Proving my point." 

If they both hadn't heard the noise from outside, maybe another hit would have followed, but Peter's eyes widened at the noise of repulsors. Relief spread through his chest but it didn't last long because suddenly there was a hand grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him to his feet, just as the door to the balcony was kicked off it’s hinges, sending it splintering against the far wall. Loki snatched the scepter and used it to pin Peter instantly. 

"No- no- get off-" Peter shoved against the arm but he was quickly spun and pressed against the man’s chest and he thrashed, eyes widening with hope as his father stormed in through the broken glass and wood, the eyes of the helmet bright and daring, palm out and fiery, ready to fire.

“Let him go, you son of a bitch.”

“Easy there, Stark,” Loki warned, holding Peter tightly with both his arm and the metal scepter as he stared at his father. Nevertheless, the god took a step back at the intensity in Tony’s voice. 

“Dad,” Peter whispered. He didn’t mean to sound scared, but he feels like he sounded it, and it made his ears turn a shade of pink as he squirmed in discomfort. The arm was pressing the metal shaft against his shoulders, a hand gripping the back of his neck, just enough to keep him in place and to hurt. 

The helmet receded to reveal Tony's face and the man made eye contact with his son, gaze softening as he tried for a smile. “Hey, kiddo. You okay?”

"He's fine-" Loki started but Tony's eyes flashed and he glared at him. 

"I didn't ask you, I asked my son," he snapped, returning his gaze to his boy. His voice switched back to its gentle, yet urgent, tone, "Peter, are you hurt?"

Peter shook his head as much as he could and choked out, "N-no." God- why did he stutter. Peter steeled himself as much as he could, raising his chin and continuing to pull very slightly against the arms holding him. 

Relief washed over Tony and he nodded, giving his boy a smile, "Good. You're gonna be fine," he assured him. "Okay? Don't worry-"

“Oh, you can’t promise that,” Loki snickered in amusement and shivers ran down Peter's spine as he stared up at his dad with wide eyes. Don't let him hurt me, dad, he thought, but at the same time he prayed that he didn't look as scared as he was. He had never seen the look his dad was currently displaying and he hated it. 

Tony took a bound forward before the god could stagger back and he raised his arm up with pure fire in his gaze. “Maybe I didn’t say it loud enough or maybe you thought I was kidding, because I wasn't," he snarled. "Get the _hell_ off my kid, don’t make me ask again-”

“Ooh, I think that’s his serious voice,” Loki whispered to Peter who twisted furiously at the mockery, letting out a groan as he was held in place, the hand on the back of his neck squeezing.

“Don’t hurt him, you bastard,” Tony choked, storming forward a couple strides, Loki moving backwards and dragging Peter with him as he let out a warning tisk. 

“Tony, I’d watch yourself unless you want Stark Jr. here to get caught in the crossfire here. And don’t even think about firing, I’ll do something much worse before that blast even skims me,” he assures him, making Peter’s eyes widen even more as he let out a choked whimper.

Tony swallow down a curse, face screwing up in physical pain. His first curled and he and the man holding Peter stared in tense silence. “Let him go," Tony finally said, adding quickly. "I know we need to talk.”

"Lower the arm," Loki told him simply. Tony's arm dips quickly, and Loki sees the look in his eyes. He would do anything for the boy. He would take advantage of that. Loki adds with a shrug, "And for good measure, get rid of the suit."

“Dad, no-” Peter croaks out, realizing that his father would be exposed. 

"Don't make me ask again," the man taunts and Peter flinches, his breathing getting quicker. 

Tony lets out a huff and cocks his head with a broken gaze, but Loki isn't budging and he knows it. One look at Peter and that's all it takes, lowering his arm that was shaking. It hangs his side and Tony keeps his eyes on his enemy as he flexes his shoulders, his suit retracting, legs peeling away, the suit's boots firing up and zipping out the shattered hole in the house from where they had came. It zooms away until the low hum is gone, and the god in front of him is satisfied and amused all at once.

Peter nearly sobs. "I'm sorry," he cries and Tony stares at him with eyes so full.

"It's okay, Pete. It wasn't your fault," he tells him softly, giving him a smile before he approaches them both, hands up in surrender. “You wanted my attention," he tells the god, stopping a couple feet away. Peter itches to just run to his arms, but the man holding him can sense it and he tightens his grip. This time, Peter doesn't make a sound even though it hurts.

"That’s why you took my kid," Tony snarled protectively, glaring daggers at the man who has Peter still pinned against his chest. His dad spreads his hands and speaks through gritted teeth. "Well, congratulations. You’ve got my attention."

"Oh goody," Loki drawls, his eyes flashing.

Tony keeps his voice calm but there is a bite to it that he can't seem to smother for good reason. "I’m here," he spreads his arms. "Let’s talk. Unless of course you were expecting a god damn parade for your efforts. No? Good. So I'm gonna guess you’re intelligent enough to understand how cause and effect works,” the man said in sarcastic fury, but Peter detected the wobble of his voice. “Let my son go. We’ll have a drink. I won't try anything, you have my word.” He motioned towards the bar over his shoulder and stood his ground. 

"And what good is your word, Stark?" Loki snarls in question. 

"I guess you'll have to take that risk," Tony tells him daringly, his breath catching in his throat as he waits for an answer. 

Pause.

Loki narrowed his eyes, staring at him intently, his head cocking to the side as he contemplated. Peter waited, chest rising and falling slowly. A painstaking minute goes by, the silence deafening. Then finally-

“Okay, Stark, it's a deal,” he wiggles his eyebrows, and in one fluid motion, shoves Peter behind him and brushes past Tony's shoulder for the bar. The scepter glows in his hand as his cape billows behind him. 

Stark immediately lunges for his son, catching him before he can fall to the ground before sinking to his knees and holding him against his chest, legs buckling underneath him. He puts a hand in his hair and kisses the top of his head, resting his chin on it as Peter buries his face in his shoulder, the two of them gasping to breathe properly. 

"You're okay. You're okay, Pete," Tony breaths in relief, rubbing the boy's back. He sets him straight, peeling his son off of him. When he looks him in the eye, the kid is shaking and staring over his shoulder with a look of anger at the man near their bar. 

"Dad-" he whispers tightly, the lump in his throat yanking on his words.

"You're not hurt?" Tony makes sure again, cupping his cheek with his hand and feeling over his arms and chest. 

"No- but _dad_ ," Peter says again as firmly as he can with wide eyes. "You can't just-"

Tony's slowly getting up from his crouch and the man smiles, eyes crinkling. He brings Peter to his chest one more time and squeezes tight, the boy barely having enough time to grasp his shirt in his fists before he straightens again. His father's voice was serious and he whispers, “Stay here, Pete.”

Peter tugs on his sleeve and shakes his head violently with wide and confused eyes, "No- don't- don't-" That man- Loki was evil. He could hurt his dad, they were enemies, and he was going to go talk to him?

"Stay where you are, kiddo. No matter what happens. Promise me," Tony tells him firmly, taking his face in his hands again before he brushes his bangs to the side of his forehead affectionately.

Peter stares at him in disbelief. He finally gasps out, "I- no!" He can't. He can't do it. He can't willingly stand by and watch his father get hurt because of him, he wouldn't. 

"Hey, promise me, Pete. You need to. Now. No matter what, you will _stay here_ ," his father demands with a gentle intensity that makes Peter eventually break. He would do it for his dad, because he's never seen that look in his eyes. Desperation. Tony always hid it, especially from him. But now he saw it. It didn't scare him, it just made him worried. But he trusted Tony. There wasn't anyone he trusted more. His dad knew what he was doing. 

Peter nods his head and Tony's hands drop to his shoulders, squeezing once before he pulls him close and whispers quietly against his ear. "This will go south. Slip away, head for the steps. I'll come get you." Then his eyes sharpen and he puts a finger to his lips. Peter nods that he understood and Tony raises his voice to normal volume, reiterating, "Stay here. It's gonna be fine."

He turns slowly, runs a hand through his hair, and casually walks up the small patch of steps to the bar where Loki is waiting.

The god turns, and his piercing green eyes meet Tony's dark ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
> I made pancakes this morning and I didn't burn the house down and they didnt taste like crap so yay me!  
> I hope you liked the chapter, crap is about to hit the fan are ya ready XD  
> Lokiiiiiiii kinda dark ngl. but hes always been known to push the limits. No hate to tom h tho love that man. Anyway I hope you liked it, sassy and brave peter owns my heart as does irondad. AHHHH its so cool and weird to write them as literal father and son. Stay tuned to find out how tony and peter are gonna get out of this pickle-  
> thats like a cliche news reporter ahahaha or like one of those but wait there more commercials  
> I'll try and tone down the cheese  
> Thank you guys for reading and for all the comments and support it seriously means the world to me <3 <3 and stiltsrosko!! Stay tuned for next chapter have a wonderful week im sorry if its rough keep ur head up it will get better because hey its 2021 now nothing can be worse than 2020 XD  
> Love you 3000 <3 <3


	6. A Flickering Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOO awesome readers <3 <3  
> First of all lol I didn’t put a chapter name sorry bout that I fixed it now teehee  
> First month of 2021 done!!! AHHHHHHH how time flies and goes so slow at the same time. Guess whos back back againnnnn sorry for the little delay especially with replying- school went full tilt this past week and ive been crazy busy im sorry :((( but were back with another chapterrrr!!! I hope you like it, were def ramping up and diving into the thick of the battle thank you guys for everyone who read and commented and supported and left a kudo- you all mean the world to me <3 <3  
> I rly appreciate it and im glad youre liking it so far! Its been awesome to dive back into marvel again and im super excited for where this is going teehee. So were in the thick of the hyena scene with some more action because teehee friendly remidner this is lion king >:) and whats it without a little peril?  
> So please sit back relax and enjoy this one, take care, i hope everything is okay with yall and life is going well school isnt too crazy. Always keep ur head up :)  
> Read on awesome people!!! I am gonna get my fourth cup of coffee haha

"Please tell me you're going to appeal to my humanity," Loki sneers, spinning on the bar stool, cape draped over his leg. His eyes are fixed on his enemy, fierce, and emotionless, yet they were filled with it all the same. Tony was the only one, he noticed, that dared stare directly into his eyes. Peter had as well. Maybe it was a Stark family thing. 

The famous Iron Man makes his way up the steps and goes over to the bar, beginning to mix a drink like Peter has seen him do a thousand times. Inside, Tony is screaming with rage, but his worry keeps his anger at bay. His vision keeps flickering red and he has to swallow down his bile, his hand shaking as he pulled open the small freezer resting on the counter for some ice. 

His son was on the couch. Tony was unable to take a deep breath with him here. He had seen his red cheek, he knew what it was from- the aftermath of a slap. Loki had done it, Loki had put his hands on his kid, the man in front of him who Tony wanted to reach across and strangle. But he could not. Everything was different now that Peter was in the room with them. Loki still held the cards as long as he had his eyes on his son.

So he needed to keep this act up, he needed to stall, to talk. And then he needed to give his kid the opportunity to get out there. Tony had learned a lot over the years, whether it was from running a company, getting held captive in Afghanistan by the Ten Rings, or the countless battles he had fought in. If you wanted something, badly, and needed to catch your opponent of guard, anger was the only way to do that. Tony was proving that right now. In his anger, he could barely think straight.

Escalation was the only way to pull Loki's rug of pride and confidence from underneath him, make him stumble, even a bit, and Tony would have the upper hand. Piss Loki off, make himself the target instead of Peter, tap into the god's rage and get him mad instead of focused. Everyone lost sight of the big picture when anger was involved. Peter would be forgotten, for even a split second, and he could get out of there. 

That was his plan. It was a dumb one. But he at least knew Peter would be able to slip out the door, at least if he didn't get involved. He prayed he wouldn't- he bet everything on that simple promise. He knew his boy was a Stark. But that meant two things, either he would break the promise and fight, or he would realize that Tony was serious and that running was the only way to truly win. He hoped and prayed to a God if there was one that Peter would pick the latter. 

Tony cocked his head and glanced up at the god who was waiting for a response. Waiting to see what he'd say, probably even predicting it in his head. So Tony shrugged and ultimately decided on something the god would never guess. "Uh...actually, I'm planning to threaten you," he said, keeping his voice light. He now had a bar to sit on with his tone, low and lighthearted. Keep it that way. 

The second of shock is quickly smoothed from the man's face as Tony's choice of words and a smile appears on his face. Tony wanted to blast the smug look off of his face. "With Peter here, you'd dare?" Loki taunted, raising a hand to motion behind him at the boy who was frozen, staring at the two of them, sitting down against the couch, back pressed up against the cushion. There was fear in his eyes, but Tony twistedly knew he wasn't scared for himself, but rather scared for him. After everything he had been through, Peter was still worried about him. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna do my best," Tony snarled back, his hand clenching around the glass so hard he swore it might shatter. He needed to get the man to stop thinking about his son.

Loki snorts, impressed, before he made a gesture and admitted, "You should have left your armor on for that."

Tony nods, wishing he could have. "Well, you kind of gave me no choice in that arena. Yeah, it's seen a bit of mileage. And you've got the blue stick of destiny," he waved his hand towards the scepter Loki had clenched in his palm. Jokes. Since he was young, Tony would resort to humor. It became his kind of...coping mechanism, and he based his entire personality around it so no one could see the tough exterior that he held up every day. Loki had found the chink. Peter. But Tony wouldn't let him use it. 

"Stalling me won't change anything," Loki told him, but Stark could see the glint of suspicion in his eyes. He had him off guard. That was a start. 

"No, no, no," Tony corrected, raising a hand to wag his finger at him, forcing the shaking to stop for as long as his limb was in view. "Threatening." Then he raised an eyebrow and although his insides were being twisted into a knot, he managed to chisel a casual expression on his face as he offered, "Drink? If you want one, speak now or forever hold your peace." After a second, his arm started to waver and he shrugged, "No? I'm having one."

That's when he reached forward from under the cover of the bar lip and pulled on two metal bracelets that flashed silver, tucking them under the sleeves of the long sleeve shirt. 

"The Chitauri are here, and more are on their way," Loki said with an evil smile, spreading his arms cockily. "Nothing will change that. What do I have to fear?"

"The Avengers," Peter called from the couch in fury and Tony bit his lip. The god turned around to face the boy who glared at him with the same intensity Tony had a second earlier. He didn't shy away from the amused gaze aimed at him from the god and the older Stark felt a flicker of pride amidst his tense worry. 

"The Avengers," Loki repeated, staring at the boy with a smile on his face. 

Peter glanced over his shoulder at Tony who gave him a pointed look and put a finger to his lips. He dropped it as Loki turned back to him and continued mixing his drink. "It's what we call ourselves," he explained to the god. "Sort of like a team. Earth's Mightiest Heros, type of thing."

A small wave of anger washed over the man's face and he winced and snarled, "Yes, I've met them."

Tony smiles and grabs a couple ice cubes, dropping them one by one into the cup, allowing them to spiral and clink. "Yeah, takes a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one. But let's do a head count here. Your brother," he pointed, making jazz hands. "The demi God-"

Loki curses internally at the mention of Thor, curling his fist and shaking his head. Tony makes a note of that. 

"A super soldier, a living legend who kind of...lives up to the legend, a man with breath-taking anger management issues, a couple of major assassins, and you, big fella," he points at him in exclamation, giving a small laugh as he pours his drink into the clean glass. "You managed to piss off every single one of them."

Loki smirks and makes a face, admitting, "That was the plan."

Tony licks his lips and swallows as he circles the bar, shooting a glance at Peter to make sure he stayed where he was. "Not a great plan." His expression darkens as he closes in on the man and he drops his voice to a low growl. "When they come..." his face slackens, "and they will...they'll come for you."

"I have an army," Loki protests with a snort, barely able to finish a sentence before Tony cuts him off. 

"We have a Hulk," he counters. 

Loki breaks into a smile and snickers, "I thought the beast had wandered off."

Tony fakes a smile as well, like Peter had done minutes earlier, and he waves his hands as he gets face to face with the god, every bone in his body wanting to slam his fist right through his heart for putting a dirty finger on his kid. But he doesn't. For Peter's sake.

"You're missing the point. There's no throne," he says with a calm shake of his head. "There is no version of this, where you come out on top. _Maybe_ your army comes, and _maybe_ it's too much for us, but it's all on you." He takes a step back and swallows down the rest of his drink, setting it on the bar counter next to the scepter. 

"Because if we can't protect Earth, you can be damned well sure we'll avenge it," he hisses before shrugging. "It's kind of in the name."

Loki stands up slowly, grabbing the scepter and Tony tenses. He knows Peter does too on the couch but he begs the boy not to say anything. He needs to stay the hell out of the picture. Loki gets face to face with him and Tony forces the wave of panic to die off as he glares at him, staring right into those deceptive eyes that are filled with mischief. 

"How will your friends have time for me," he snarls, jaw tight. A smile plays on Loki's face and he finishes in a low whisper, "When they're so busy fighting you?"

He raises the scepter and taps it onto Tony's chest, the man not able to scramble back in time. Peter screams from the couch, "DAD!" and Tony doesn't blame him.

Even Tony winces as the sharp tip hits his arc reactor beneath his shirt. He waits for something, _anything_ , to come after the small whir from the orb and the sharp ping that made his ears ring. But nothing happens. Loki's brow furrows like a kid who got a toy that was broken. The god does it again, this time, Tony begins to smile as the same whir and ping result in no effect. No blue eyes. No brainwash. Nothing. 

Loki looks both extremely confused and bummed and he mumbles in embarrassment, looking at Tony, "It should work."

Tony puts a hand on his arm in mocking compassion and admits, "Well, performance issues. You know? Not uncommon. One out of five…"

The god's arm lashes up and he grabs him by the throat, Tony letting out a choked yell that is in unison with his son's. The man flings him across the room and he lands harshly, sliding across the floor, making eye contact with Peter and giving him a nod. His son's lips purse but he begins to crawl behind the couch, heading for the door. Tony holds back a sob of relief under his ducked arm. He rights himself into a sitting position, holding his side.

Loki's gaze is on the older Stark, eyes flashing green and gold as Tony coughs and stares at him from on the ground. The man taps the bracelet he had slipped on, as he pushes himself backward away from the approaching enemy, gasping, "JARVIS. Anytime now."

Loki closes the distance in seconds and reaches with incredible speed. He grabs Tony by the throat again and the man chokes, his hands going up as his eyes widen. Over Loki's shoulder he sees the door on the far side of the room shut and he suppresses a smile despite the circumstances. 

"You still want to threaten me, Stark?" Loki demands cooly, clenching his hand harder around his neck as he lifts him a foot off the ground. Tony kicks, choking as he thrashes, lungs burning, a bruise forming from the god's grip. 

"Oh, it's hilarious. You think you're intimidating, but you're actually adorable," Tony rasps out with a grin and Loki slams the scepter against his face in a rage. Tony groans, eyes fluttering, blood dripping down his nose and cheek from the hit. "Well hey, when it doubt, use it as a baseball bat, that worked," he taunted, meeting the god's stare daringly. 

"You will all fall before me," Loki hisses in anger, before bringing him close. Tony's eyes shoot wide as he realizes what the god is doing. He's winding up. Sure enough, Loki launches him backward, shoving him into the glass window that shatters at the force of his hit, making Tony cry out in pain from the weight against his back. The hand drops from his throat but his stomach flips as he feels everything give away behind him. He topples out the window, freefalling down the side of the tower, wind whipping in his face. 

Tony twists midair and tries to keep his breathing steady. Just like when you're in the suit Tony. Except you're not in a suit. He spreads his arms and legs and screams, "JARVIS! NOW!" From behind Loki, the elevator opens and a red pod shoots out, whipping down the side of the building in hot pursuit. The pod laser signals the bracelets on Tony's wrists and the lights make their measurements as the contraption spreads into his Mark VII suit.

He's falling fast and Tony withholds his scream because the suit is forming around him now, arms, legs, back- 

He wonders what he'll look like as a pancake on the streets of New York.

The helmet clamps on over his head and his screen flickers to life after a millisecond which sends his heart to his throat. When he opens his eyes, all he sees his ground, coming up way too fast. Tony immediately turns on all thrusters and lets out a yell, skimming the street with his toes before he blasts into the air, circling back to the tower.

Loki's watching him angrily from his spot at the window as Tony spirals towards him and he lands on the balcony a couple feet away. The two men face off, Loki gripping his scepter in his hand, the blue orb flashing in the sunlight peaking through the clouds. 

"And there's one other person you pissed off!" Tony yelled in fury, taking his stance as he narrows his eyes. "His name was Phill," he growls, voice cracking with emotion.

Loki snarls and raises his scepter but Tony is faster. He fires a massive blast, knocking the god backwards into the building before his helmet recedes and he blasts forward, planting a kick to his enemies chest and traveling back with him so that it's his heel shoving him into the ground. Loki chokes and scratches at his boots with wide eyes.

"Don't you _ever,"_ Tony hisses dangerously, pushing the man into the floor so hard the concrete cracks, "touch my kid again, you son of a bitch."

Loki looks up in fear as the man steps off of him and fires twice. He tries to throw his cloak up but it doesn't do much. A cry of pain is ripped from his throat and his word somersaults as he's thrown backward across the room. In his wake is a massive explosion that leaves him in a heap once he slams into the back wall, making a dent in the stone. He tries to get to his elbows and fails, instead reaching for the scepter, crawling towards it and reaching out with a bloodied and rubble covered hand. 

Someone scoops it up first and Loki's palm falls flat. He looks up and Tony swings it like a golf club, the orb hitting him right in the face. Loki slides backwards as his head snaps up and he slumps against the wall with a groan. 

"Four!" Tony calls, flipping the scepter in his hand before he turns around and walks out of the room which is bathed in smoke and fire. He tosses the staff to the side and the scepter skids across the floor into a corner, the orb's gleam choked out by the shadows.

Tony doesn't waste any time gloating, and if he knew Peter was safe, he would have gone back and spent another thirty minutes with the man who messed with his kid. But finding his son is his top priority and Tony didn't trust himself alone with his enemy. Once again, Peter kept him human, and Tony found the courage to turn away, every fiber in his body wanting him to turn back and blast the god until his suit ran out of power.

The helmet closes over his head as he storms onto the balcony and orders, "JARVIS, find my kid."

_"Seven levels down sir, and counting. You could meet him at the bottom of eight."_

Tony can't help but grin as he admits, "Fast kid." He dives off the edge of the smoking building, does a loop, and lets himself fall before he banks tightly and crashes through the window of the floor. Tony does a roll as he gets to one knee and raises his gaze for the exit sign at the end of the room. The sign that read stairs was next to it and he was never more grateful to see one of those in his life. 

Shoving things out of his path as he crosses the room, he runs for the steps and yanks open the door, yelling, "PETER!" His heart is pounding within his chest, shaking him to his core. 

"DAD!"

Tony's head snaps up faster than it ever had and his eyes go wide under the helmet. His kid peaks over the side of the steps a little ways up and their gazes lock, Peter never so happy to see the bright eyes of the Iron Man suit. The grin on his son's face is so wide, Tony nearly sobs in relief.

The boy quickens his pace, Tony bounding up to the landing and turning to the set of stairs Peter was running down. His kid lunges off the last few and into his arms, Tony holding him tight against his chest as he staggers back against the wall and holds him, sinking to the ground. The helmet recedes from his neck once Peter is in the crook of his shoulder and his eyes slip shut as he hugs him for a couple seconds, murmuring, "You did good, kid. You did good. I'm so glad you're okay..."

"W-what happened to Loki?" Peter asked against his arm after they resort to silence, hugging him tightly in the armor, never wanting to leave. 

"Took care of it," Tony said simply, before they both pulled away and Iron Man proved that he was once again human. There was a high pitched ringing in his ears and he groaned, more in annoyance than pain, leaning back against the wall, keeping his grip on his son's arms. But that meant Peter saw his face. 

"Dad! You're hurt!" Peter exclaimed and Tony realized he probably looked pretty bad from that hit with the scepter. His nose was bleeding, he knew that much for sure. 

"I'm fine kiddo," he assured him quietly, taking a deep breath through his throat that was still tight from the grip of the god, his jaw bruising. His eyes flashed once and he took a breath, speaking again with a calmer voice. "I'm fine."

"He did that," Peter realized immediately and his gaze darkened. " _Loki_ did that to you-" he shoves himself up and turned for the steps but Tony grabbed his sleeve and tugged him back into his chest, closing his eyes tightly. "No!" Peter yelled, squirming in his grasp but it was futile; Tony wouldn't let him go. The screams turn to cries and the cries are on the verge of sobs. "He _hurt_ you!" Peter insisted, pressing his palms against the armor so he can stare his father right in his eyes. 

"I know Pete," Tony said quietly, broken at how a kid could care about anyone so twisted so much. "It's okay," he reassures him. 

"No. No it's not," Peter protests and Tony knows he has to distract him someway- get him off this topic. 

"Yes it is," he said firmly before he quickly smirked and announced. "On another note, little birdie says you somehow got your hands on one of my blasters." Tony raised an eyebrow. His son's ears go pink and his face flushes as he sinks down on the ground next to Tony. The older Stark pulls up one leg to his chest so he has more room. There's a battle raging outside, but Tony doesn't care. This was more important. 

Peter mumbles quietly and looks down at his hands that he had started to wring in his lap, "Yeah."

"Uh huh," Tony smirks, raising an eyebrow. "And how long have you had it?"

"Ummmm, not important," Peter brushes that question off with a nervous smile but then immediately begs, "Just please don't be mad." He looks like he had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar, which, in the Stark household, was the equivalent of the boy stealing scraps to make a weapon that he used to save people in the streets of New York in an alien invasion. He watched him with a wide gaze. Damn the puppy eyes. 

Tony cracks a smile at their crazy lives and ruffles his hair before tipping his chin up to meet his son's look in amusement, "I'm not mad, Pete, I promise. I'm so proud of you."

"Really?" Peter whispers in happiness, like he had just said the words that he had been waiting to hear all his life. 

"Yeah," Tony says back just as quietly. "Guess my kid is a little hero," he smiles before he cocks his head and suppresses a smirk, asking innocently, "I wonder where he gets it from."

"And I wonder how you fit that head into your helmet," Peter teases back with a knowing grin. 

Tony gasps before he demands, "Do you even know what that means?"

"Kinda," Peter giggled but there was confusion in his eyes. "Mom says it to you a lot."

Tony chuckled and gave him a nod, "Yeah, mom does say that to me a lot, and she's right. But you, young man, better not say that around any of the Avengers." They both trailed off before he bit his lip and flashed back to a line a couple exchanges previous.

"Peter," he says seriously. That look had thrown him for a curve ball. The boy's face fell like he knew where he was going, because he probably did. Tony searches to meet his eyes and assures him, "You know I'm always proud of you, right? You never need to prove yourself to me. I'm just as proud of you when you ace a math test as I am when you blast an alien."

"You are?" Peter asks suspiciously. 

Tony makes a face and admits, "Okay, fine. Alien is a bit cooler."

"It was cool," his son agreed with a small giggle. 

"You eased into the shot right?" Tony asked him. "Planted your feet? Locked your arm?"

"Just like you taught me," Peter nodded happily, looking down with a smile. 

Tony held back a fist pump, instead he just laughed and said, "That's my boy." Then he looked up and nudged him gently in the shoulder. He needed him to know. Just in case he didn't. "Bud, I will always be proud of you," he told him firmly. "No matter what."

"I- I know," Peter muttered, tugging at the frayed end of his shirt. "I just...I thought if I..." he looked up in determination and his voice was filled with bravery, his eyes wide as he spoke with excitement. "I wanted to save people, dad. Like you do!"

Tony winced, shaking his head, "And you have a big heart, Pete...but you being here...during all of this? That should not have happened. _This_ should not have happened," he repeated again, and Peter knew he was talking about Loki. He snapped his gaze up at his father's tone; it was said with much more force, Tony exclaiming, "You could have been killed. It's my fault."

"Dad, you didn't know this would happen," Peter said quietly. The boy saw the fact that his father was spiraling, and he felt a desperate need to stop him from hitting rock bottom like he always did. For some reason it felt different then the normal times he had to persuade his father to take a step back from the self hatred. "You had no idea!"

"Doesn't matter, kiddo. I put you at risk," Tony hissed, looking at Peter with narrowed eyes, warning him to stop defending him. For years he had tried to keep his son safe, to protect him. The next he's in the arms of the enemy, literally, fighting on the streets in the middle of a violent battle. Where the hell did he go wrong?

"And that _wasn't_ your fault," Peter insisted, pouring the same resilience and stubbornness that was aimed at him back into his own voice and gaze. The two looks from both Starks clashed, but the young boy didn't expect his father to snap. 

"Yes it was, Pete!" Tony yelled and his son jumped, eyes widening. It was misdirected anger, it was anger directed at Tony himself. But Peter couldn't understand why he would be mad at anyone but Loki. The man shook his head and ran a hand through his hair before he hissed, "Kid, what if somebody had died? You saved people, thank God you didn't have to watch someone-" the man pursed his lips and took a tight breath. "But what if it had happened? What if somebody had died because you couldn't save them?"

"Then I'd deal with it," Peter grits his teeth. "Sometimes you can't save everyone, you just have to do your best when the bad things happen, because if you don't, then the bad things happen anyway, and they happen because of you."

Tony stares at him. There's terrifying silence. And Tony sees himself in Peter's eyes. The kid who's father made him build a circuit board instead of teaching him how to ride a bike. The naive boy who took over a company around the time when he had just become legally allowed to drink. The man who was practically forced into the Iron Man armor and it's burden long before he even made the trip to Afghanistan. He watched Peter grow up in half a second of staring at him, and it rocked him to his core.

The fierceness in his son's eyes should not be there. Tony nods, his voice dangerously quiet, "And that's what scares me. You are too young to think like that. You're too young to even be expected to have an answer to the question I just asked, but you do!" he whispered in disbelief. "The world is a messed up place, and you've just hit the tip of the iceberg, do not expect me to be okay with you diving headfirst to see the rest." He points a finger at him and hisses, "I had to grow up too fast, kid, I will not let you be the same-"

"You're not Howard!" Peter shouted in fury, and this time it was Tony who moved back in shock. "Dad, you're not your father. You're not failing me! When will you believe that? Because everyone knows it but you."

"I know I'm not my dad, Peter, I've tried every waking second since the day you were born to be the opposite of him-" Tony hisses, his eyes flashing.

"And it worked! You can stop now! You can let me grow up!" Peter spluttered. The boy's intelligent eyes flashed and he leveled his voice, speaking diplomatically in a way that Tony had when he was young and describing molecular fission instead of playing outside. "You ask me a question, I say the right thing, and then I'm apparently too young to say it? You say you're proud of me, and then wish this never happened?" the young boy demands, Tony looking down, but it's not in defeat, it's in a wind up.

"I wish it never happened because he _hit_ you! And he could have done much worse!" Tony yelled and Peter glared. "You almost died, Peter. And the fact that you don't seem to register that is wrong. You don't understand how much this scared me." _Scares_ me, Tony thinks in his head. 

"I held my own," Peter muttered defensively. 

Tony nods, "That's exactly my point, kiddo," he says it with a weak laugh deprived of humor. "You shouldn't have had to!"

"I just wanted to be like you!" Peter says furiously, shaking his head and glancing at his father like he didn't understand him. But Tony understood him perfectly, and he hated watching his son hang his head. 

"You are just like me!" Tony exploded, before he reached and ruffled Peter's hair, leaving his hand resting on his curls. "You are just like me, Pete. And that scares the hell out of me-"

"Why-" Peter says quietly, tears in his eyes when his chin lifts up.

"Because I want you to be better," Tony said immediately, and the boy steeled his gaze. "And to do that, you have to slow down with the hero job. Wait. Watch. Learn. You need to stay out of the spotlight, you need to keep your hands clean- I shouldn't even be talking to you about this, I wanted you to have a normal life-"

The young boy eased his voice louder so he could respectfully cut off his father and insisted, "I'm the son of the world's most famous superhero, my life will never be normal. But I'm okay with that. Dad, it seems like _you_ aren't. You can't protect me all the time." He let out a small snort, "Because I'm a Stark. You said it yourself. I'm you."

"Exactly," Tony says brokenly.

"And that's not a bad thing, dad," Peter urges, and Tony looks up at him, meeting those chocolate eyes so full of life. He wanted them to stay that way. But they're also full of admiration, because his son sees him as this golden figure of light. As if he's done nothing wrong, as if he's someone to look up to. Peter shook his head, "I want to grow up to be you. Why is that bad?"

"Because it's dangerous," Tony hisses.

"And?" Peter grins.

"And if you die," Tony spread his hands and his eyes were filled with a fire that Peter had never seen. The boy's smile falls instantly and he stares. "That's on me!" Tony swore loudly, and the boy pursed his lips, looking down suddenly. 

He dared to speak in a low tone, mumbling, "I'm not gonna-"

"Peter," Tony warned, and the kid knew when to shut his mouth. He looked away, glaring at the wall, curling his hands into fists with fire in his eyes, his teeth biting away and his cheek. Tony he sighed, hanging his head before he finally glanced up weakly and mumbled, "This is the thanks I get for saving your life? You're not even a teenager yet, don't our fights come later?"

"I had it handled," Peter sniffed.

"Uh huh," Tony smirked and opened his arm, Peter staring at him for a couple seconds before he pulled himself across the floor to fit himself under the draped arm, back up against the wall next to his father. "I just want you to be safe, kiddo. As much as possible. And I'm not an idiot," he smirks at the smile he knows is on his son's face. "I know that's not an easy feat for you, considering your last name. So just promise me one thing," he said quietly, staring down the steps. 

"Yeah," Peter's voice was small, and Tony was just painfully reminded at how young he was. 

"Don't grow up too fast," he says, and the weight in his chest relaxes. He's able to breath again, somewhat. Then he adds, "And don't take anything else out of the lab without checking with me."

"That's two things," Peter tells him innocently. 

Tony smirks and squeezes him tightly for a second. 

His son nods against his shoulder and Tony takes a deep breath in relief before he closes his eyes and puts his head against the wall. "I've got to go, kid," he winces. "We've got a war to win."

Peter nodded, ducking out from under his arm. He showed he understood, "Yeah, you need to go."

"If I drop you off with MJ and Happy, you'll be good?" Tony asks firmly, making eye contact with him.

"I'll get an earful from Happy but yeah," Peter sighs in annoyance, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

"Well last time I saw him he was knocked out," Tony shrugs.

Peter nearly grins before he realizes that's not an appropriate time to smile. "Not funny."

"He's fine though, so it's a little funny. Forehead of Security can kill me when he wakes up," Tony snickers as he pushes himself to his feet, holding back a wince from the sharp pain that shot through his ribs. Peter didn't see, which put him at ease. He then holds out his hand for his son who clasps it as he pulls him to his feet. "Gotta renovate anyway," Tony sighs, blasting through the door to the steps, the two of them stepping into the room once it clatters into an already broken table. Peter giggles as he passes under his arm, making his way to the window Tony had obviously crashed through, the wind from outside ruffling his curls and the papers scattered across the floor. 

"Check your left thruster, it looked weak," Peter tells him firmly and Tony eyes him in suspicion before he has JARVIS run a manual diagnostic.

The kid was right, it was drained of almost all of his power and he does a little rerouting to stabilize the suit before he scoffs. "Stop showing me up Iron Man Jr."

Peter smirks at his fathers nudge to his shoulder. They stand on the edge, one step forward dropping into open air, the two of them side by side, staring at the battlefield that is the streets of New York. The scene before them is a twisted detailed masterpiece, smoke woven into the clouds of the sky, sun peaking through to glint across the torn buildings, the sky, bright blue, reflecting against the windows still intact. It's bright, but the atmosphere is dark and dangerous, and Tony shoves away every instinct that tells him to grab Peter and fly him as far away as possible instead of staying to fight. The battle rages with violence, and Tony and Peter stare at it from above where it seems so much more peaceful. 

"Dad?" Peter suddenly asks. 

"Yeah, bud?" Tony whispers back, taking a deep breath. He looks down at his son who has an odd expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, but it's not sadness, or fear, it's mischief. It's a grin, and Tony recognizes it. He wore that same look before he blew up the lab that one time. Pepper was mad at him for about a month. 

"For wha- SHIT!" 

Peter lets himself tip backward with a smirk and a salute, Tony's hand missing his shirt as his son lets out a laugh and trust falls through the window. Obviously the air doesn't catch him. Tony's heart stops and the helmet closes over his wide eyes as he immediately dives after him, firing up his boosters. Peter is grinning and a furious father tackles him midair, holding him tightly to his chest. 

"PETER STARK!" Tony yells at him as he feels his son wrap his arms around him as they shoot through the sky. 

"You wouldn't have let me if I had asked!" Peter protests firmly with a giggle. 

"Do you _like_ the feeling of falling through the air?" Tony demands in shock, banking to turn a corner, noticing how his son was not phased at all.

"Yeah, it's not bad," Peter admits before he gives him a proud grin, his bangs blowing over his eyes and in front of his face. "I knew you'd catch me though. I wasn't scared."

"Well this is great. I've got a daredevil for a son," Tony groans as he dives down to avoid a crane, skimming the ground just for good fun as he's shown the map on his screen. "So, you finally got to fly, huh?" he snickers to his kid. "You happy now? Is this everything you dreamed of and more," he slurred sarcastically, still shaking his head as his son's reckless behavior, but knowing all too well where it came from. 

Peter grins happily and nods, "Yeah." Then his face falls and he sighs, "But now you've got to go save the world." He seems slightly disappointed. 

"It'll be your turn soon enough, bud," Tony tells him and Peter grins at that, ducking into his shoulder as they loop around a street and Tony touches down in a low jog. He sets Peter onto the road, the boy getting his balance almost immediately.

"Be careful, dad," Peter says quietly, staring up at him with a gaze that was too serious for a boy his age. He should be playing outside with green grass and blue skies, not a sky thick with smoke, fires littering the streets. He should be looking both ways for cars, not for enemies.

And in that moment, Tony sees a little bit of the boy's childish innocence leave his eyes, eyes that used to be full and bright. He watches helplessly as a little bit of the light is lost. 

And Tony feels it to his very core.

He prays for it to come back, but this kind of thing you can't restore. 

"I will kiddo," he says through a lump in his throat, thankful for the helmet that is over his stinging eyes that are staring in shock.

When he was born, Peter's eyes hadn't looked like Tony's eyes, although everyone said they did. Tony's were much darker, not with color, but with age, with what he had seen and been through. Peter's eyes had been pure and painless. But now they were starting to look familar, and it scared the hell out of him. 

Peter gave him one last hug, and Tony bent down slightly to wrap his arms around him, trying to keep his breathing steady as he held back a shudder and embraced him tightly. "You be good," he said, praying his voice didn't crack.

"Love you," Peter whispers with a gulp. 

"Love you too Pete," Tony says, before he salutes and Peter raises his hand to his head back with a small grin.

Then he looks over his shoulder, seeing and hearing MJ burst out of the doors with a cry. Tony's never seen her smile that wide. The two kids collide into a hug and he feels comfortable enough after a nod to Peter's best friend whose head is resting on his son's shoulder before taking off. He shoots into the sky, looking back as she tugs him inside one of the shops, Peter glancing up at him for one last second before they both disappear from his sight. He urges the thrusters to full power. 

"Your favorite team member is back, what did I miss?" he whoops happily, smiling despite the tears making his eyes hurt. He dove down, knocking two aliens off a building and blasting them both into the ground. 

_"Nice of you to join the party,"_ Nat calls, a few grunts from her end of the call as she speaks amidst a fight. 

_"We're doing absolutely fine. You run a daddy day care for an hour? Didn't even notice you were gone."_ That's Clint, and Tony can't help but snort. The man was a father too, he understood the rollercoaster of emotions Tony had just experienced. He landed and shot a beam up the street, taking out four aliens at once. 

_"Shut up, Barton. Tony, how's Peter?"_ Steve. He doesn't hate the man as much as he used to. Eh, hate was a strong word....thoroughly disliked. Better. He did that less now that he knew that Cap had tried to save his son. But the question that he asked, as kind as it's intentions were, and the whole team was wondering it as well, it rocked him to his core. 

Tony swallowed, picturing that flicker of light start to dim in his son's eyes. He clears his throat and announces, "Fine. Good. He's all fine. Thank you, by the way for trying to help him." Tony lands and bats a chariot into another, crushing both of them and firing two shots at the aliens who jumped overboard before they collided. They fell in a steaming heap and he turned, "For that I've decided to help you first, so lets play a fun little game of Marco Polo. Where you at, Cap?"

 _"Off the cross of-"_ there's a massive rumble in the coms and Tony's eyes flick to the side. He sees smoke billow a couple streets away. Cap speaks again, _"I take it you saw that? Marco."_

"Polo," he copies. "And Rogers, reminder not to blow up the city?" Tony says innocently, trying to ease back into his sarcastic shell. 

_"We need to figure out how to close that portal."_ That was Thor and Tony chuckled as he banked a corner and blasted an already crushed car into an approaching chariot before he gets a couple to follow him, knocking them all right into an already demolished street corner since they're unable to take sharp turns, picking off the survivors one by one with short blasts and brows knit in concentration.

"Shakespeare!" He greets the Azguardian in his coms. "Glad to know you're still alive and kicking. So that means we haven't lost anyone yet, go team!" His expression darkened and he hissed, "And Thor? Nearly killed your brother, hope you don't mind. Just wanted to let you know: he's a dick."

_"Not quite sure what that insult entails on Earth, but if it's rude, then yes."_

_"There's at least twenty rounding a corner and coming at me. Marco, Stark, Marco,"_ Steve shouts, letting out a yell and they can hear the shield bouncing off of armor before an alien scream tears through the coms. 

"Rude is an understatement," Tony snarls as he blasts back into the sky and spirals for the polar of smoke. "Marco, Cap. Almost there. Don't worry, I'll make a dramatic entrance." 

_"Well believe it or not guys, we've got bigger problems than Loki. Fury's on line 1. He's talking to the council. Something about a nuke?"_

Tony groans as he dives down and lands on one knee a couple yards in front of Cap, staring at the approaching aliens who all seem like much less of a threat compared to what Romanoff just announced. He sighs in annoyance and groans, "You've got to be kidding me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coffee is amazing just thought yall should know. Highly reccomend. Sleep is good too i guess.  
> ANYWAY i hope you all enjoyed that chapter!!! Loki got what was coming- no one messes with Tonys kid and Peter showed some colors today that totally scared the crap out of his dad. Hes definately a carbon copy and that scares him :(((( poor guys. But in the end they always make up and Peter jumps out of a window!  
> Wait what  
> Haha i hope you liked the chapter, drop a comment, i love hearing from you guys! Weve got snow here which is awesome so no school tmrw but i still have to do a math test because my teachers dont like us too much ig :) gotta love that. But yeahhhh so i hope all of you are doing well, enjoying the story- we are not done with the battle of new york JUST yet >:) but hey with that comes more father son moments which i cant get enough of. So stay turned for more stark family content, thank you guys for tuning in and reading, and thank you for your support!!!!  
> Have a wonderful week and stay safe and healthy everyone. Good luck with the crazy chaos that is life  
> I love you 3000 <3 <3


	7. Beauty in Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another round of applause to stiltsrosko- the amazing author behind this masterpiece. They are AMAZING and I continue to hope i do their idea justice :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI LOVELY READERSSSSSSSSSSS  
> sorry this is a day late- i have a good excuse tho!!!!!!!! School was being RUDE this past week has been crazy and then last night i was like okay i can finally write and i didnt but HERES WHYYYY: I was watching wandavision!!!!!!!!! Yes i finaly caught up idk why it took me so long but I binged it all with my family so im up to speed and OH MY GOD. I have a lot of feels about it, i think what i love most as a film person is the aspect ratio changes that made me just die in happiness of how cool it was. Anyway! Thank you for your support on this story, ur comments have made my day and thank you for reading because i know you have a busy life so thank you for being here!!!  
> We got a heart-wrencher for you in this one, gotta love the emotional rollercoasters i put yall on. Fair warning this one is a big drop so hands and feet inside the car at all times >:)  
> I hope all of you are doing well, i just sat down with my coffee and a blanket to wrap up this ending with a nice bow so I am ready, i hope you are too. Coffee is fantastic, just thought I should state that once again for the record. I had two cups yesterday and apparently that was "too much" according to my mom. My dad hid his third cup to avoid getting scolded XD and then the minute she left i got and hid my third cup as well. In this house we steal coffee >:) muahaha BUT ENOUGH ABOUT ME onto the storyyyyyy we are closing up the battle of new york in this one, i hope you like it, hang in there everyone. Read on!

Planes are sleek, smooth, beautiful. Especially ones meant for war. Those are sleeker, smoother, even more beautiful. The sun glints on the waxed siding, flashing brightly. There's a feeling of adrenaline from just being inside, a magnificent array of all the buttons and levers and lights blinking. Those controls that hold so much power. So much destruction at one's fingertips. Is there beauty in destruction?

It was like planes were meant to have grace and elegance, like when a fighter jet takes off, racing down the runway, wheels spinning until they finally lift away from the ground and tuck in, the way the air bends around it's wings and the line of white it leaves in it's wake. It's beautiful as it flies, but what's carrying is far uglier in it's purpose. 

Two of those planes are sitting quietly on the runway of the tarmac atop the helicarrier. They are silent now, and you could not guess the volume of the roar they let out at full speed. Both pilots shift in their seats within identical cockpits. They wait, listening, hands itching to pull the lever, eyes alert and narrowed, ears straining through the static in their helmets, breath fogging up against the cold glass of their visors. 

The plane itself itches to fly, to show it's beauty, it's grace, it's destruction. One can continue to question. Is there beauty in destruction?

And then, breaking the silence, the voice crackles over the speaker. 

_"Director Fury is no longer in command. Override order, 7 Alpha 11."_

One pilot nods and his gloved hand clenches around the lever as he ignites his engine. This is what he was trained to do, and he responds instinctively. _"7 Alpha 11, confirmed. Prepare to takeoff."_

The other pilot nods as well though no one can see him, his movements a bit more shaky now that he was given the go, his glass fogging up as he breaths harder, gulping down his fear and replacing it with the drive to serve. He volunteered for this. To take the risk. He pulls out, turning his plane onto the runway, starting to pick up speed. 

From inside the helicarrier, Agent Hill sees a flash on her screen, her piercing brown eyes peeking through her dark black bangs. They narrow and she straightens at her spot on the bridge, gazing upon the alert. She was trained for moments like this, immediately jumping into action. Her voice is firm and demanding as she shoves a hand to her ear to tap into coms.

"Sir, we have a bird in motion! Anyone on the deck, we have a rogue bird! We need to shut it down-" her hands fly across her keyboard as she tries to deny access or signal someone of it's location, becoming more worried with every passing second. She knows what's on that plane, and she knows it needs to be stopped. The council had snuck one of their birds, one of their pilots, onto the deck of a S.H.I.E.L.D. ship, and they were going to get away with it. And blow the city of Manhattan.

"Repeat!" she yells louder, less in panic, more in desperation, "Take off is not authorized!" 

On the deck of the helicarrier, Nick Fury bursts out from the door by the steps, an airtronic RPG hefted upon one shoulder. The wind is blowing harshly but it doesn't veer his aim off course. He levels the smooth side with one hand gripping the handle further down, eye that's not covered by the dark patch narrowing, coat flapping behind him, and then fires. The shot hits it's target, the tail end of the jet which spins it out, the back of the plane shattering into pieces on the ground. 

The pilot in the jet is already bracing, gritting his teeth as his plane is rocked to the side. He has taken out according to plan, but it's not over yet. He's already shoving off his seat belt so he can crane his neck to watch the second plane take off, grateful that he still had his life- something he had been prepared to lose had Fury aimed slightly towards the center. 

Sure enough, 7 Alpha 11, the jet that the council had sent the order to, shoots down the runway past him, making Nick Fury stumble back. Inside the shaking cockpit, the pilot lifts off with a small grunt, pulling up until the plan eases into the sky, shooting across the blanket of blue. The man on the deck raises his weapon and aims but it's too far. The jet speeds away, the sound fading, and he lowers the body of the launcher in a huff, clenching his jaw. His shoulder slump as he lets the RPG fall to his side, staring at the small dot in the sky. 

His hand shakily raises to his ear and he speaks firmly. There's only one person that could stop this now. He speaks to him.

_"Stark, you hearing me?"_

"Aye aye sir," Tony says back to Nick, skidding on the ground, his boots digging into the street, making sparks and breaking up the road. His voice sounded nervous, which was a bad sign, because Fury never sounded nervous. He tried to not let that revelation distract him as he fought, burning beams of light shooting from his palms. 

The next line revealed why, and it made Tony's stomach flip. _"We have a missile headed straight for the city."_

The man internally cursed the impulsive council. Letting an entire city die? Peter was here. His team was here. Millions of people were here. Pepper was even flying in. Everything he cared about was here, his family, his friends, a big old chunk of humankind. Tony couldn't let that nuke hit. A surge of determination fills him as he begins to think of what to do. Steadying himself, as he spins and fires, taking out two Chitauri in a single blast, he demands, "How long?" 

_"Three minutes, at best,"_ Nick said, and Tony bit his lip so hard that he tasted pennies inside his mouth. That wasn't much time. He needed more. Nick didn't seem to care when he gave him his directive, _"Stay low and wipe out the missile."_

"Yeah, wipe out a nuke. Just a typical day. What the hell am I supposed to do with a nuke?" he yelled, roaring in anger as he spun, knocking an alien back and blasting the other in the chest. Tony's hand lashed out and caught one that lunged around it's throat, jamming his fist into his chest which launched it back into a cop car, shattering the already cracked from wind shield. Tony blasted it before it could even get up and the hole steamed through it's chest, the alien sinking into the broken position it had landed in. 

He has no time to stare at his violent victory. 

A large group attacks him from behind...he can tell by the sound that has been flooding his ears lately- the chattering and the shrieks and the screams. Tony braces, spinning with both palms outstretched, his vision overrun almost immediately. Beams burn and his armor grows dull as a pile of these things keep the sunlight from reaching it. Tony knows he has to stay on his feet if he wants to live; the minute he's knocking down, it's over. 

He fires again and again but they continue to rush like a tidal wave and even his anger doesn't keep them at bay. One slams into him from behind and Tony groans, his head yanked backward into the sky as one runs at his chest, his armor softening the blow, but he knew he'd have a nasty bruise by the end of this. He transfers power to the arc reactor and gives a pulse, the center of his chest letting out a stream of light that throws six aliens back. He's able to turn but it's still not enough- he needs to stop the nuke- he needs to fly. 

Tony's teeth grit as his display flickers, hands still clawing at him, grabbing at his arms, keeping him from pushing the dreaded mob that had swarmed him away. He groans and manages to choke out, "JARVIS- put everything we got into the thrusters!"

_"I just did."_

And that's his cue. Tony crouches and then fires up his boots, a massive explosion incinerating the circle of aliens surrounding him, the open sky freeing him from the smothering pile he had been crushed under. He gasps for breath and increases his speed, not stopping until he's high into the sky and the screeching sounds fade behind him. He hovers, getting his balance, swallowing the pain and checking the levels. 

Now for the nuke.

"Where are you, you sneaky bastard?" he whispers urgently, spinning midair, scanning the blue canvas that's littered with wisps of smoke.

Miles away, 7 Alpha 11 is gliding across the sky, riding the wind, flying at insane speeds. The man inside the cockpit catches glimpse of the city's skyline. At that sight, he flips a switch with his one finger before moving his hand across the panel to hit the button.

Natural instinct causes him to hesitate. But duty and training still cause him to push the raised and blinking circle. His gloved thumb presses down on it, and he feels the slight rock of the jet as the package releases. Underneath the plane, the bottom flaps pop out and the missile is dropped into open air, dipped into the sunlight. Near the back of the weapon, it's own engine fires up and the plane swerves away from it's path and shoots into the clouds, the missile continuing for the city. 

The pilot speaks into his headseat, shaky slightly, well aware of the weapon he had just unleashed, heading for Manhattan. He swallows and forces his voice to still. "Destination is in 2 minutes, 30 seconds mark."

He had a college friend in Manhattan. 

On the other side of the city, fingers smash against a keyboard, and despite the speed, not a word is spelled wrong. Eyes of Professor Selvig, back to normal (not their coated blue sheen), the tight grip that Loki had on him now gone, are intensely focused. His laptop is resting on the edge of the roof, his hair rustling in the wind since they were so high up. The sounds of the burning city below have become background noise to him at his point. 

Behind him, fiery red hair gleams, and Natasha reaches down with a wince, her hand curling around the edge of the scepter. She lifts it with a clutch to her rubs before steadying herself, the orb in the center flashing in the sunlight, the metal staff hot to the touch from sitting in the sun. Her hair whips over his shoulder and she jogs over to the edge of force field, readying the tip. After exchanging a look with Erik, she nods and begins to press the edge through the shimmering sphere surrounding the blue and glowing cube. 

It pushes back against her, like a magnet being forced together of similar poles. With a firm snarl, she presses harder, the air in front of her shimmering and sparking in resistance. Natasha continues to drive the edge forward until the tip of the scepter is brushing the Tesseract, the air gleaming around the shaft, trying to pull it from her hands. 

Breathlessly, she taps into coms and yells, "I can close it!" She dares to wait a half of a second before she quickly shouts, "Can anybody hear me? I can shut the portal down!" She doesn't expect anyone to oppose her, and Cap is first to give the go ahead.

 _"Do it!"_ he shouts immediately, a certain pain in his voice, like he dared to hope that this could be the end of the seemingly endless battle. 

But a second response nearly cuts him off, and it's even more urgent. _"No, wait!"_ Tony. 

Natasha grits her teeth as she keeps her hands clenched around the scepter, digging her heels into the ground as she keeps the orb steady, looking over her shoulder in the sky for the glint of the Iron Man's armor. She doesn't even see Stark. What she does see is the portal that is overflowing, pouring out an army of aliens that seemingly had no end, like a wound gushing blood. Why the hell would he not want to close it? But as long as she had known Stark, they had built, (and broken and built again) a steady wall of trust, enough for her to pause at his cry.

Cap is thinking the same thing as Nat, and he yells, _"Stark, these things are still coming!"_ He was right. The sky is still littered with black spots as the aliens leave their nest, like someone had just hit a beehive and it's residents were ready to swarm. They needed to shut this portal down _now,_ before it got any worse. But Tony's next words makes her halt her unconscious actions of pushing the edge of the scepter forward. 

_"I got a nuke coming in, it's gonna blow in less than a minute."_

Natasha freezes and she looks up, searching the horizon again for him, and for the incoming missile. Stark's voice is tight.

_"And I know just where to put it."_

"Peter!" Curls fall in front of a look that is identical to the one his father has worn whenever someone interrupted him.

The young boy was getting tired of people screaming his name. Happy was awake, so he decided he had become the boss again, shooting Peter a glare whenever he contradicted him. Apparently since he had disobeyed every order the man had given him, he was now in trouble, and not allowed to go out of the man's sight. If he disagreed, it was always 'well you ran back to a car and nearly got yourself got blown up' or 'you ditched me in the subway when I told you to stay put'.

Peter bit back 'at least I stayed conscious' at least six times, and cursed his father giving him the ability to make smart quips. He went along with it for Happy's sake, since the bodyguard looked like he would explode if Peter countered him again. 

But this voice wasn't Happy's gruff and demanding call. It's a voice that he's heard since he was young, that resonates deep within and spreads warmth through his chest. A feeling of comfort and stability, his distracted vision sharpening. 

The young boy looks up from where he's crouched by a man who was bleeding from the head, he and MJ trying to keep him calm in the room full of injured. But the minute he recognizes the voice, his annoyance evaporates and he shoots to his feet amidst the crowd, smile spreading onto his face. Michelle stands up with him, her eyes finding the same woman Peter had, a similar grin forming. 

"Mom!" he shouts gleefully, and Pepper's gaze locks with his in a loving clash. Her face crumples into that of relief and happiness as she moves forward, pushing fully through the door. She's in a white dress with her hair tied back messily, a grey coat over her shoulders, green eyes fiercely scanning until she sees her son.

The young Stark lunges away from his spot, ducking and weaving until he's in her arms, holding her tightly as she envelops him in a hug, eyes slipping shut beneath her red bangs as she takes the first deep breath that she's been able to ever since she learned about the attack. 

"Oh thank God, thank God- you're okay? Right? You're okay?" she whispers tightly, wanting to take a look at her son but also not wanting to ever let him go. She eventually finds it in herself to pull away as she looks down firmly, cupping his face gently as she brushes her thumb over his cheek. Pepper smiles with a small laugh, rubbing his hair, Peter's grin widening on his face.

"Yeah mom, yeah, I'm okay," the young boy assured her immediately, recognizing her panic and doing his best to soothe it. 

Pepper nods furiously (the anger is not directed towards him), before steadying herself, her eyes flicking over his shoulder. She breaks into another smile.

"Michelle," she says gently, MJ appearing behind Peter. She pulls her forward into a hug and at first the young girl stiffens before she melts into the embrace, content. Pepper lets go before MJ can squirm; she never liked hugs.

"I kept him safe," MJ nudged Peter's shoulder and Pepper gave her a proud look. "Saved his life a couple of times," she shrugged casually.

"Of course you did," she winks at the girl and MJ smirks knowingly, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. Peter rolls his eyes but she's not wrong. He's reminded of the countless times his gauntlet gave out and his best friend had to hold the fort while he fixed the damn thing- dang. _Dang_ thing. (Well at least it was in his head, that meant he didn't have to add it to the swear jar.) 

"You both did so well," she tells them, before there's movement behind him and Pepper reaches frantically. "Happy-" Pepper hugs him as well, the head of security patting her back in affection, the two of them good friends. "You're okay?" she asks, reaching up to brush the bandage on his head that was speckled with blood and he nods, rubbing her shoulder.

"Yeah, Pep, I'm fine, I promise," he assures her with a calm look.

"A little annoying actually," Peter shrugs and Happy glares at him out of the corner of his eye, the young boy innocently staring just like Tony did whenever he insulted him.

"What are you doing here?" he demands. MJ snorts, and Pepper gives her a sideways glance that smirks. 

"My kids are here, Hap," she says firmly, as if that he had just asked the dumbest question in the world, which he had. This was Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, someone that could leave Tony speechless, and raise a kid all at the same time. Her love for her family was as strong as both of her boy's were.

She puts her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow, "I was on the first flight back once I heard about the attack. I got your location from the team and prayed you still be here," she said in exasperation.

It was then that Peter saw the tiredness in the depths of her green eyes. Most people had told him his eyes looked like his dad's, and that he shouldn't want it any other way, but Peter thought to himself sometimes that if he could have any other eye color, he would want his mom's bright green ones. Bright they still were, but also weighted down by the events that had happened. However, Peter could see something else, maybe because he knew his mom so well... but she had been through this before. The tiredness in her eyes wasn't just physical, it was mental, because this wasn't the first battle Pepper had witnessed and been apart of. 

The war had started hours ago. Peter hadn't realized how much time had gone by, even since Tony had left him. To go all that time without hearing from your son...no one deserved that pain, so he could see the relief slowly smoothing out the worry marks that had been carved in over the past couple hours. 

And that prompted his burning question that he was itches to ask. 

"Mom, where's dad? Is he okay?" Peter tugs urgently on her arm, craning his neck towards the door, eager to join the fight once again. He can picture his father fighting, shooting aliens with glowing beams and firing his boosters, doing loops in the sky as he battled the enemy. It made him proud to be his son, but also worried, knowing that at any moment, his suit could give out, or an alien could get lucky with a shot. His stomach flipped and he got a horrible taste in his mouth picturing his father being knocked out of the sky.

Pepper recognizes exactly what he's thinking and kneels down in compassion, her voice gentle. "He's fighting with the team. He'll be okay, Pete," she says, with eyes that show she's been down this road, just like he had seen. And Peter knew it had been worse, much worse, in times past. Tony didn't know he found out, but Peter had discovered the time period in which the arc reactor was killing him. At least now his father had a fighting chance, but it wasn't the first time for that either.

The boy had spent hours looking up everything he had missed when he was too young to remember, seeing in shock how many times his father had defied death, but that simple fact comforted him all the same. It was the same old dance they had been through many times over, but this time it was real for Peter. He was old enough to experience it, to feel the fear of having someone you love fly off and risk his life.

Seeing the worry in her son's eyes, Pepper puts her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly so her son glances up at her. "Your father knows what he's doing," she nods at him. "He'll do everything he can to protect the city."

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about," Peter swore with insistence, his eyes fierce as he glances at the door. "What can we do to help? Can we do anything?"

"Peter, you've done so much-" Pepper told him before her phone buzzes in her pocket. Peter's gaze snaps down, and as she tucks her bangs behind her ear and slips it out of her pocket, he catches sight of the name and his heart clenches, his lip tugging up in relief. 

In the center of the city, from the tallest building, you could see the nuke heading for it's target of detonation. And then you can see a small red ball of flame- no, a man in a red suit, that is spiraling towards it. Tony gets beneath the missile and reaches for it. 

_"Stark, you know that's a one-way trip?"_

That sentence from Cap sent shivers down his spine and his breath got caught in his throat. Did he know it was a one way trip? Yes, yes he did. And at that, Tony shuts off the coms with a small wince, blinking harshly. His vision was shaking just slightly from the speed between him and the weapon he was fumbling for, his entire body trembling. 

Tony speeds up before he can change his mind on his decision, urging his thrusters to go faster, speeding towards the tall skyscrapers. Wind is roaring in his ears or maybe it's just inside of his head. He can hear his own heart, and his stomach is flipping inside him. 

The man reaches with a groan of effort and grabs it tightly before moving towards the middle, his iron fingers sliding off the side with sparks as he struggles to maintain his grip. He presses his palms against it, tilting his head to get the missile into the notch on his shoulder. Gritting his teeth and strengthening his grasp on the sides, his kicking legs finally straighten as his boots fire up in a blaze, pushing their limits. With the extra thrust, he begins to push the nuke off it's course, steering it from behind. 

Tony's heading straight for the Stark Tower- he can see himself in the windows as he edges closer at top speed. With a yell and a last ditch push, he forces the bottom of the missile into his shoulder and forces the tip of the nuke higher as they fly vertically, skimming the wall of his building, the shattered glass knocked around by his feet as it tumbles into open air. He's allowed a grateful exhale as he shoots upward, arms wrapped around the weapon, all weight except for the actual nuke lifting off his shoulders once the missile is angled into the sky and not the city.

And he knows where he's aiming. 

Breathing hard, he stares into the bright blue embroider of the dark portal that's shimmering as it bleeds into space. His hands would shake if they weren't so tight against the sides of the nuke he was carrying. They continue to climb higher, Tony's arms straining as he clenches his teeth. His eyes flick side to side on the display, a lump building in his throat as he realizes once again what he has to do. It's getting closer at incredible speed, giving him barely any time to process.

He licks his lips and finds his voice, prying his jaw open in a harsh command, "Save the rest for the return, J."

At least he wouldn't be alone. He had JARVIS- stop. Don't talk like you're about to die, he chides himself. He feels his thrusters ease as he tightens his grip, now only steering the nuke, not so much forcing it forward with his boosters. His suit is dying, power ebbing away with every second. He'll need enough to land...if he's able to, and he tries to force himself to do the calculations, as if that will take his mind off of what's happening right now. 

His eyes begin to sting and Tony keeps his grip tight because he knows if he loosens, he'll let go.

Maybe he should let go. Hope for the best, hope it just slips right in. Because Peter's somewhere in the streets of the city that is getting smaller and smaller beneath him.

But this nuke needs to go into the wormhole.

Pepper's down there, worried as hell, probably with Peter at this point; he had heard she caught a flight, telling his son that Tony was safe. Well he wasn't safe, he was flying towards and holding onto the definition of 'not safe'. 

But they've got one shot. Tony just wished there was someone who could give him an answer to why it was always him being forced to take it. A decade and a half ago, he lived every day of his life like it was the last, because he didn't care if it was. Put himself in this same situation back then, and he would be flying into the portal with no qualms, no worries, nothing. He'd do what needed to be done, and he would be fine with it. But that familiar numb feeling he had gotten used to his whole life was replaced by fear. 

He had a wife and a kid who needed him. He had something to lose- he had a hell of a lot to lose. Not just his immediate family, but Rhodey too, his best friend was down there, Happy, and his team. His entire world is down there. Yet he was flying away from it. To save it.

Because it was the only way to save the world that he cared about so much. 

So he asked himself again, why me? And this time it was said in anger and Tony shook his head from inside the helmet, letting out a choked yell as he forced his grip to remain steady, his arms screaming with effort as he forced the tip of the nuke higher. It got harder to breathe, and Tony tried to tell himself it was because of how high up he was, even though the suit was built to change with the pressure. 

_"Shall I call Pepper?"_

Jarvis centers on the only thing that's running through his head right now, the one thing that's blocking out all the noise, by combating it with more. The reason why he even caught the nuke in the first place, the reason why he hasn't let go but wanted nothing more than to drop into freefall.

Tony winces and nods slowly, whispering as they start to shake harder, passing through clouds, approaching the massive hole of space. "You might as well," he swallowed painfully. 

He needed to say goodbye if that's what this was. The lump in his throat made him feel nauseous and the sting in his eyes made him ashamed. _Stark men are made of iron._ The last time he cried was the day Peter was born. But now, as his wife's voice met his ears through the static, and he heard his son echoing in the background...

As the sky in front of him widened as he closed in, aliens pouring out around him as he shot upwards towards the dark chasm of space, a a tear made it's way down his cheek. No one but Tony would ever know about that tear.

Even that small drop was trickling back down towards Earth, while he was flying into space away from everyone he loved. 

"I want to talk to him!" Peter shouted immediately, as his mother put her phone to her ear after sliding her thumb across the green accept call button. The stern look she shot in his direction didn't quiet him like it usually did and his fierce eyes were insistent. 

Her face slackened suddenly, lips wavering as they were unable to smile. Bad reception had her putting a finger up to plug her ear, eyes slipping shut in concentration so she could hear her husband over the phone, asking, "Tony? Tony what- what's-" she pauses and her eyes fly open, her hand going to her mouth as her eyes find Peter. That's when he knows something wrong and he stiffens, biting his lip, not tearing his gaze from her.

His mother is looking at him in shock and sadness and he tenses, reaching for the phone again, but his grab falls short. 

"I love you too." She says it too quietly, shifting her stance, brushing her bangs from her face as she stares in the distance, aggressively shaking her head as her mouth tries to form words that are wrestled down into silence and a small choke. She's not looking at Peter now, which he knows his also a bad sign. She's trying to hide it, but even her voice is shaking.

"Just come back-" she's cut off and Pepper looks sadly at Peter. "He's here," she says before her brows furrow and she looks up as if trying to see into the sky. She's met with a dark stone ceiling. "What? Tell me you're not-" she sucks in a breath and purses her lips tightly. "No, nonono- Tony, don't, I swear to God, I'm serious, come back here right now. Right now. I'm going to-" she pleads loudly before she nods and whispers, "He's here, yes. I love you-"

In all of his life he's never seen his mom act like that, and it scares him. Pepper lets the phone dip not even an inch and Peter has grabbed it, shoving it against his ear. "Dad?" he says quickly, not even waiting for a response. "Dad!"

_"Hey kiddo."_

Relief. Calm. Just for a split second. And then back to worry. "Dad- why-" Peter's gaze flicks to Pepper and he whispers in fear, "Why is mom crying?"

_"Because...uh, it may be a while before I get home."_

"What? How long?" Peter demands furiously, his heart racing faster, chest tightening on him. His ear begins to ache of how hard he's pressing the phone against his head, and the static crackles in his ear but he doesn't care. Every single thought he has is focused on his father's voice coming from the speaker.

_"I- look. Do me a favor. Promise me you'll take care of your mom?"_

Maybe others would have been fooled. Peter was not. He swallowed and gripped the phone with his finger so hard his knuckles were painted white and his hand started to shake. His voice was dangerously still however. "You're not coming home, are you?"

A small chuckle reaches his ears and it spreads warmth into his chest, but it's immediately pushed into deep cold corners by the sob that underlies the laugh. It's humor but it's also...pain. Peter doesn't like it. His hands fiddle at his sides and he bites his lip hard as his dad speaks again. _"I can never get away with anything, can I?"_

"Just- what's going on?" he demands angrily, surprised at how much anger he's able to muster. "Tell me," he cries, his voice cracking as he shifts his feet, turning around again, unable to stand still, as if he's searching for a button that can stop time. 

Tony's voice begins to crackle and Peter puts hand to his ear to hear him with a wince, all while shifting one foot towards the door. _"This thing I'm about to do may go south-"_

"Then don't do it!" Peter yells, tears forming in his eyes as his breathing starts to speed up. He looks at Pepper helplessly and she purses her lips, eyes filled to the brim as well. He lets out an angry sound of desperation and shakes his head, "Then don't do it, dad- come home!"

_"It doesn't work like that, buddy. I wish it did. Look, just be good, okay?"_

"No!" Peter yelled, his head bobbing back and forth in a constant motion as he tugs at his hair. "No!" he cries again, this time it's more like a gulp. "Dad-" he whispers in a voice that he doesn't recognize as his own, feeling it being dragged down by the lump in his throat. "Come home, okay?"

_"Pete, I love you so much-"_

"I lo-" The phone cuts out and Peter's heart stops. It happened so fast he lets out a cry from his closing lungs. And the boy's hand drops to his side in horror as the phone slips from his fingers. It bounces on the floor, a piece of the screen shattering off and landing after a slight skip.

The boy is running. He's running. Past Pepper, past Happy, past MJ, around the chairs, over the broken tables, sprinting until he's outside and bounding forward across the sidewalk. Even then he doesn't stop, eyes high in the sky in a full 360, spinning as he runs because the sky the only place his father could be that would make the suit's connection start to fail.

His eyes fall onto the portal as he skids to a stop in the middle of the street, hair blowing in the mind, smoke wafting in front of his view.

The rip in space still has aliens pouring out from it, but there's something else. Something going against the stream, and even though Peter doesn't see more than a glimmer, he knows what it is.

It's going so fast, even though time starts to slow as Peter's still trying to stay on his feet from how quickly he stopped in his tracks. The fire is burning around him and Pepper is running towards him but Peter is frozen on the pavement, and in the time it takes his eyes to focus and a slow exhale leave his lungs-

Tony goes into the wormhole. 

"DAD!" he screams, louder than he has in his entire life. Time spirals back in a clash and he's stumbling, the fire is crackling at normal speed, Pepper is rushing at him, everything starts up again, and Peter is left staring up at the wormhole that his father had just flown straight into.

Steve watched from a couple blocks down, Tony flinging himself into the depths of space. He sucked in a breath and refused to mourn like some of his other team mates, he only waited. Heartbeat pounding to signify the passing of time, the slowest five seconds of his life are over and the Chitauri that had been approaching suddenly keel over with shrieks, like something deep in their chest had been ruthlessly clenched with a tight fist.

The aliens buckle and begin to tremble, letting out a horrible sound before they suddenly fall flat all around them. He can hear them up and down the block as he turns in shock. Tony did it. It meant Tony did it. It also meant there was an explosion in space that was nearing Earth, and that that portal needed to close. 

His hand goes to his ear and he waits eagerly, praying to God that his friend makes it through, chewing nervously on his lip as he keeps his eyes trained on the exact spot Stark had flown in not even a minute ago. Thor is also looking, hand clenched around his hammer tightly, blonde hair blowing across his fiercely scanning blue eyes. The man is restless, feet shifting on the ground. 

He can hear Romanoff from the coms, _"Come on, Stark..."_

Horror eats away in Cap's chest as he sees the fiery ball of light edging towards their sky. It's a supernova, a wave of destruction, and he can't let it touch the blue of their Earth. It's a spectacularly terrifying display of twisted beauty, like a sunrise of fire, and they can't wait another second. Steve hates himself, he knows he'll regret it for the rest of his life. Thor nods at him in dismay and sadness, thinking the same. 

"Close it," he swallows tightly with an exhale of guilt. Natasha doesn't respond but suddenly the energy beam is gone, dissolving in a flash into thin air and traveling at the way back up the portal that is soaked in light- 

It's all sucked away, everything yanked back up into a space like a fitted sheet being upended and the sky returns to blue with whisping clouds, and a small figure hurtling backwards in the open air. 

"Son of a gun!" Cap shouts happily, relief flooding his chest as he grins, waiting for the boosters on the suit to kick in and for Tony to power it all up, maybe do a loop just for show like the eccentric man he was. But he's not moving. Well that's not true. He's falling fast, head over heels in a downward spiral, seemingly unconscious, the suit's power dead. Even the red armor didn't have the same glint. 

Cap tensed, his jaw clenching as he curled his fist, unsure of what to do as he squinted in the sunlight. 

Thor spun his hammer suddenly at his side until it was a blur, his voice sharp, "He's not slowing down."

The minute his feet leave the pavement, there's a deafening roar and Steve turns to see Hulk take a running jump out of nowhere and snag Tony in midair, bounding into a side of a building and scaling it with the man in his tight green fist. Glass shatters as he breaks windows and he lunges off once he's halfway to the ground in another massive leap, landing on the nearby bridge, tossing Tony's body down with a grunt before pacing at his side. 

Oh God. 

Cap sprints to his friend's aid with Thor, diving to his knee next to Tony. Thor bends down and rips off the Iron Man helmet which clatters along the ground before spinning to a stop face up. Steve bends down and feels along the chest plate, unsure how to remove it, unable to detect a heartbeat through it, unable to determine if the pale and bloodied face is that of a living man or a dead one. He isn't moving. Steve swallows, hands hovering, unsure. 

Suddenly there's another massive yell of fury from the Hulk, making Steve fall back to his haunches in surprise. The noise startles the man on the ground awake with a large gasp and he chokes out, "AH! Ah- what the hell? What just happened?" Sucking in a breath, the man's head falls back to the stone ground and he gasps out, "Please tell me nobody kissed me."

Steve chuckles, clasping his shoulder in relief before he sits down, hand resting on his knee he has propped up. He stares into the sky and looks around before realizing, "We won."

Tony locks gazes with him and he can see the massive wave of stress recede. The man exhales and lets his eyes slip shut as he tries to move his sore arms to clap, his suit that's out of power restricting his movements. "Alright! Hey. Alright. Good job, guys."

Steve lets out a small laugh as he watches him. Tony shakes his head, licking his lips with a voice that's a pitch higher than normal. "Let's just not come in tomorrow. Let's just take a day. Have you ever tried shawarma? Peter's been begging me to go- oh my God that kid is gonna kill me," Tony realizes with a stressful laugh.

Cap's smile widens at the mention of his son and he's comforted by the look on his teammate's face. "There's a shawarma joint two blocks from here," Tony continues weakly, as if he's excepted his fate. "I'll make it up to him-" he waves his hand sluggishly around. "You guys are invited too."

Suddenly there's a small yell and it makes Tony's head raise immediately, snapping up with a bright and hopeful expression. Cap turns as well, and his gaze finds a boy staring at them from one end of the bridge. Staring at Tony. Staring at Tony with eyes that look very familiar. He knows who it is, and smiles spread across all the men's faces.

Steve turns in instinct and helps a struggling Tony sit up as the boy starts running to get to him. 

"DAD!" came the strong voice, scrambling over the rubble and around the fire that littered the bridge, afraid of nothing. 

"Pete?" Tony shouted hoarsely, lungs not functioning properly enough to take in a breath. He lets out a yell of happiness as the boy lunges into his open arms, nearly tackling him back into the ground. Steve watches the reunion, respectfully backing up as Tony holds Peter against his chest, his son's face buried into his shoulder.

Cap observes, admiring how no words need to be said. Even as Pepper comes running too, because she had been following her son as he tore through the streets. Tony looks up and choking on a laugh, opening his other arm to his wife who presses a kiss to his lips as she sinks down at his side. He brushes her fiery red bangs away as they kiss before the family embraces on the ground. 

Steve watches proudly, glad to find a sliver of light in the dark times. Glad they all came out in one piece. Breaking him away from his thoughts, there's a tug on his arm. He looks down and sees the curious eyes of Michelle staring back at him. He turns towards her as she holds out her hand in meaningful silence. And Steve shakes it, accepting her offer of trust. "Your luck helped, Michelle," he tells her with a nod.

"Is it over?" she asked, looking around at all the damage. 

Cap wants to say yes. He really really does. But instead, with one blink, everything that used to be so bright turns a dull shade. His happiness is sucked away as he's reminded of the war, of the pain, of the suffering, of the fighting it took to get to this point.

He shakes his head and she purses her lips knowingly. Their conversation is over; that's all that needs to be said between him.

Thor is staring towards Stark Tower, gripping his hammer in his fist as he shifts it around on his fingers. "We're not finished yet," he tells Steve quietly so Tony doesn't hear him. They both want to allow him a moment of victory before the horrors of the aftermath sink in.

Soldiers never get a break. Tony had said they weren't soldiers, and he was right. They are Avengers. Steve thinks that's almost worse. 

"I know," he whispers. Cap sucks in a breath and doesn't let it out, he just stares at the city that he can see from his vision. And when he looks back at the family hugging, a damper is put on the joy he once felt. He doesn't want to see the look on Tony's face once he pulls away and is brought back to the harsh reality or watch that smile fade as he pulls away from the people he loved. 

There was beauty in destruction. But it was shortlived. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was longer than a normal one im realizing haha yay  
> Who was here for stab me in the back when it was like 15k chapters every 5 days idk WHAT i was on and my GOD i wish i could find that in me again. Although today in the past like three hours i wrote like 80% of this chapter so hey thats something XD  
> OKAY anyway i hope yall are doing wellllll here were about to get a bit more snow so fingers crossed my county panics and cancels schoooool. Next chapter is gonna be a heartwarming one ill say that. And then if youre looking for what comes next in the plot....think back to lion king :) thats all :) ill say :)  
> Im gonna go grab some more coffee yes its like 4 here do i care? no. Cobra kai give that a watch, wandavision its so freaking crazy and confusion and idk whats going on half the time but its worth a watch.  
> PLEASE drop a comment or a kudo i love hearing from you guys all the comments make my day you guys are the best and talking with you all is legit the best thing ever.  
> Have a wonderful wonderful day and week, get some sleep i hear thats good, good luck with life it can SUCK sometimes but youve totally got this, and new chapter ASAPPPPP  
> im doing pretty well with the 5-6 day mark lets pray i can keep that up cuz i dont want you guys waiting too long lol  
> OKAY SO NEW CHAPTER BE ON THE LOOKOUT SOON you guys rockkkkkk  
> I love you 3000 <3 <3


	8. As the Sun Rises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellloooooo lovely readersssss <3  
> Im back back againnnnnnnn :)))) thank you all for reading and being here, i really appreciate it you guys ROCK and thank you for your support!!! Im super glad youre liking the story all your comments have been amazing i love talking with yall and yeah its just been super awesome and you all are awesome for bearing with me through my crazy schedule. I present to you: the last chapter before everything goes to crap  
> So take it in  
> breath in the fresh air  
> because....yeah. were gonna start getting intense again haha  
> SO this one is cuteeeee weve got some lion king line referencessss and suchhhh and im really excited for where this is gonna go! ANYWAY im sad because today i poured day old coffee and usually i dont care like ill drink it im rly not picky but SOMETHING WAS UP WITH THIS and i was like :LKJHGFDXCGFVBHN and it was so gross. SO I DIDNT HAVE COFFEE TODAY and some days i dont have coffee and its fine but like....expecting to have coffee...pouring the coffee and then drinking the coffee and then having it NOT TASTE like coffee and taste like CRAP? Thats the worst. SO i highly recommend NOT doing that!!!! ANYWAY its fridayyyyy <3 <3 gotta love that its been a crazy week with weird snow days and so much hmwk and tests and school is killing us all! SO stick with it hang in there youve got this its allllll a crazy ride and were all in this together *high school musical vibe*  
> AND ALSO WANDAVISION EPISODE RELEASED TODAY IVE GOTTA WATCH IT  
> I totally didnt spend half my choir class talking about it. anyway :)  
> Please enjoy, sorry i talk so much hahaha ENJOY you awesome awesome people!

When they had returned to their house in Cali, after the battle of New York, the Avengers now acquainted with Peter and MJ, the loose ends tied, the Stark family had a lot to talk about. Loving reunion aside, Tony had to mention the fact that mere hours after he had the talk about Peter not putting himself in danger, he had run off and raced down the streets with a battle raging around him to the bridge. 

Now Peter brought up an excellent point: he thought his father had died. But apparently that wasn't currently on the docket. It became two against one yet again except this time it wasn't parents against son, it was son and wife against Tony. Pepper had something to say on that issue as well, but Peter couldn't keep his mouth shut, so then Tony successfully twisted it into a "do as I say, not as I do", which Peter promptly called BS on- using the actual word. 

"Peter!" Pepper said sharply, her eyes narrowing at his choice of cuss word. 

"Hey, only your mom is supposed to say that word," Tony pointed at him with a wink, moving to put his hand on Pepper's shoulder who swerved away in shock. 

Pepper turned with her arms crossed tightly and raised an eyebrow, "Remind me, Tony, what you said Senator Stern was just the other week?"

"Well that's easy, I called him a piece of shit," Tony shrugged. A smile grew on Peter's face. Tony looked back and forth between his smirking kid and unimpressed wife. He tried to defend himself, giving a small shrug, unwilling to admit defeat, "Okay, but in my defense he is one. So..." 

Jokes aside, the entire argument boiled down to something deprived of humor. It also continued to ultimately close in on Peter and Tony. Emotions ran high, the line between anger and love was indistinguishable at some points.

"Kid, you deliberately did the very thing that I told you not to do," Tony exclaimed in firm anger. "You put MJ in a bad situation, Happy in multiple bad situations- I swear you're gonna give him a heart attack-"

"Like you don't on a daily basis!" Peter shoots back. On a normal day, that would have been cause for a smile, but not this time. 

"This isn't about me, Peter, you need to get that," Tony hissed. 

"I was just trying to make sure you're okay. You went into that wormhole dad, and I thought you died. I was trying to be brave, like you. You're trying to act like I made the same mistake twice in one day and I didn't. One time it was strangers, the next it was you!"

"I'm only brave when I have to be, Peter. It doesn't mean you go looking for a fight. And you can't risk your life to make sure I'm okay. That's not your job!" Tony told him. 

"Then who's job is it? Tell me one person who told you to not grab the nuke and fly it into space!" Peter shouted back, his eyes fierce, just like his father's. Tony's lips were pursed and he looked at Pepper for help, but got none. Peter brought his attention back with a small voice, "You're not scared of anything, dad, but I'm not you yet. I was scared. Scared that I might not see you again."

"I _was_ scared, Pete," Tony hissed and it stopped his son mid sentence. Peter stared at him and Tony took a deep breath. "Of course I was scared. I wanted to let go of that nuke every passing second, especially after hearing you on that phone. But kid, you have to stop and think about-"

"Tony," Pepper cut in, giving him a look. The man was acting like this was something Peter was able to do at his young age, especially when Tony knew full well he himself would do the same thing if Peter was in danger. Tony backs off and Peter gives his mom a small thankful smile, and Tony a look mixed with exasperation but understanding. 

On that note, she decides to let them hash it out. Pepper had said her piece with her son, until he made clear that he knew that running across half the city had been wrong, although he had made it clear he couldn't help it and would do it again. She knew he would.

Pepper had also promised Tony they would discuss him flying into the wormhole later, not wanting to continue to add that into the array of shots they had been firing in a triangle for the past hour. But when her part of the argument was done, and Tony and Peter were diving headfirst into something to do with a conversation she hadn't witnessed, she stepped back. Pepper was not about to pick sides between two people that were almost exactly alike that she loved dearly. 

So now she sits on the couch, eyes trained on the fire that was sending a orange glow of warmth to even the deepest corner of the room. It was flickering and dancing, radiating heat, yet she still felt an odd shiver run down her spine. Her lips were pursed and she was wringing her hands in her lap. She had retreated to the living room as Tony and Peter squared off in the hallway near his bedroom. Both of their gazes had been fierce when she left, and it sent pain rippling through her chest, joking grins that were there minutes earlier gone and forgotten. It was a Stark family tradition to weave humor into even the worst fights, so when even that dissolved, that was clear indication that something was wrong. 

The yelling started a second later and it followed in her wake for a while until finally fading behind a closed door. She pressed her back against it to compose herself, but she still didn't take a deep breath. Sinking down on the couch, she brushed some of her red hair behind her ear, gaze empty and unusually dull. Worried.

What she had seen scared her, and Tony too. Her husband more though, which was why he was taking the reins on the parenting at the moment.

She eventually lost track of time, but sooner or later she heard the low creak of the door. Glancing over at the clock, she realized how late it was, and prayed that the matter had been settled. Her husband walked in, one hand in his pocket, the other tugging at his hair. Not settled. Ended, but hardly over. If that even made sense. Tony gave her a weak ghost of a smile that was plagued by fear and shook his head with a small scoff.

He then settled down onto the couch next to her, oddly stiff, his hands curled tightly. After chewing thoughtfully on the side of his cheek, he spoke in a soft voice. "I'm sorry, Pepp." He was referencing the worm hole. They hadn't talked about it much the day of the fight, but Tony rightly knew he had to answer for it. Pepper turned towards him, sadly, because there was a lot of weight from both sides of this controversial decision Tony was forced to make.

"I'm sorry," he confessed again before she could stop him. One flat out apology was always enough between them, and she knew it was meaningful. Tony spread his hands with a laugh that contained no humor but was simply a failed coping mechanism. "I didn't have a choice-" his brow knit in confusion of how much could have gotten so screwed up when he was only trying to do the right thing.

"I know," she cut him off with assurance, pulling her legs up on the couch as she stared sadly at him, shifting closer so that the cushions dipped. Her voice was gentle as she admits, "I feel like I can't be mad at you." Then she scoffs in disbelief, "But then I think that's proof that this job asks too much of us. I have an issue with what happened, but it's not with you."

"It all was so fast. Nick said we had a nuke headed for the city and I knew where to put it and I had to make sure it got in-" he ran both hands over his face as he moved his palms to his hands and rubbed his temples. Tony exhaled shakily. "I never meant to scare you, Pepp. I just had to know that if it didn't go the way I planned...I- I said goodbye. And that's so...wrong of me to ask of you, to put you through a phone call where I thought it was going to be the last time I talked to you."

"Tony..." she said quietly, her hand sliding to his shoulder, providing warmth and comfort. Staring at him now, most of her rage had eased, just glad he was back. More so because she know Tony was already beating himself up for what happened far more than she had planned to with her scolding. It would be like putting salt in the wound, and she loved him too much to do that. The look in his eyes was so harrowing and defeated- guilty- that it already made her chest ache. 

"So how was it?" he chuckled, turning and daring to smile when she didn't respond. "How was my farewell speech? Out of 10, come on." Pepper laughed with a shake of her head and nudged him in the shoulder before slumping against the back of the couch. 

"Negative ten," she decided firmly. "Highly wouldn't recommend." Her voice was tight, and that number barely began to explain the pain of what she had gone through hearing Tony say I love you for possibly the last time. 

"Well don't worry," Tony said, turning around to find her eyes. Once he does, he continues to stare, and they say more in their gazes to save time. "It won't happen again," he swears to her. And he means it. 

Pepper's gaze grew sad and her smile had no joy in it as her head twitched in a knowing shake. She looked down and mumbled, "You can't make that promise, Tony."

Tony made a face, "Yeah, I know. I know, but I mean that _exact_ situation will never happen again." A turn to humor when in doubt. 

She rolled her eyes in amusement, drawling, "Oh, that's so comforting."

"It should be!" he agrees, bobbing his head, the mood slightly lighter which he considered a win. "I will never strap myself to a nuke and fly into space ever again."

"That's a low bar," Pepper chuckles quietly.

"It is. I think that promise still needs to be sealed though, you know, to make it permanent," he says innocently and leans down to kiss her gently, feeling her smile. "And at least it's a bar?" he whispers hopefully, grasping for a win, before leaning backward to sit next to her. "That's progress right?"

"It is," she mimics his words from a second ago.

"I am a hot mess," he finally admits with a long sigh, turning to glance at her, wondering why the most beautiful, smart, courageous, and talented woman in the world ever picked him and _stayed_.

"Well at least you've admitted it. Maybe now you can fit your head into your helmet," she teases, resting her head against his shoulder as he loops his arm around the love of his life. 

That sentence rings a bell and Tony recalls where it's from. He turns in disbelief and moves his chin from where it's resting atop her fiery hair to inform her, "You know Peter said that to me. _Your_ son got sassy with me."

"My son?" she snickered.

"Yeah! Sarcasm is my thing, but the sass he learns from you. And it's a deadly combination. He didn't even know what it meant but he said that to me," he bites his lip remembering the spark in Peter's grin. So much like his mother. Tony teases, "All the bad habits? That's on you. The cussing, first of all, and now this?" 

"I wouldn't say all the bad habits," Pepper jokes, possibly referring to the lab explosions, the constant jokes, the not doing the homework because he knows he'll get a 100 on the test anyway- or something else. Tony's eyes dull as his grin falters. She backtracks immediately, "Tony, I didn't mean it like that."

"I know you didn't," he says, tugging her closer. "I did though." His eyes are staring straight ahead but there is so much going on in his mind, she can tell. 

His words came out in a low growl of determination, swearing to anyone listening, "He won't turn out like me."

"Don't act like that's a bad thing."

"You sound like Peter."

"I'm serious."

"Pepp, please don't..." he trails off because he doesn't want to be harsh. Pepper, when it wasn't Peter, was the one to remind him that his good has outweighed the bad. She kept him balanced, but that didn't stop Tony from feeling the eyes of the massive weight burning into his back as a permanent reminder. Refusing to look at it didn't make it go away. But that anger was reserved for his past and his past alone, _not_ one of the few people in his life that he would give everything up for. So instead he fills his voice with a plead and love. "I can't. Especially not after today. The people hurt because I didn't do enough. I can't tonight, not with everything that happened. And then Peter...everything was red. I just knew I needed to get him back and I would have killed everything in that entire city if I had to until I found him."

Pepper could feel him tensing as she leaned against his side. "But you didn't. Tony, you even spared Loki." Eager to change the subject, she asked, "Did you talk any sense into that kid of ours?"

Tony sighed and his chin dipped to his chest, "I don't know. He's so...stubborn. He says he gets it, he says okay, I'll take it easy, and then he doesn't. And I know I'm asking a lot of him- maybe I'm asking too much?" His head began to ache again and his chest is slowly tightening so he deescalates with a mumble. "I need to be more careful."

"We," Pepper corrected. Tony's lips curled slightly with thankfulness and he slowly turned his head to look at her. Pepper gave him a loving smile filled with encouragement. Her voice was grounding and firm and it was the only thing holding Tony together, as it usually was. "We're in this together, Tony. But he's okay. We're both okay, Manhattan is saved, and you're not in a wormhole strapped to a nuke- which you promised to never do again," she reminds him with a sprinkle of humor. "That's what matters."

"Yeah, Pepp," he tries for a chuckle. Tony's arm slowly crossed his chest and reached up so he could lace his fingers with hers before he planted a kiss to her forehead. They resorted to silence, Tony following her gaze to the fire, similarly not warmed because of the chilling thoughts running through his head. "I want you to know, that the only reason I did what I did was because...I can't lose you. Either of you. You keep me human, you keep me sane. You both are the two things in this world that I can't live without and the thought of losing you, or letting you get hurt...that's why I couldn't let it go."

"I get that. Peter gets that. But we could have lost you too. Me, I've been down this road before with you. Peter never has. This was his first time actually feeling like he could lose his father and he...this is how he handles it. You have to let him," she said quietly. "I don't know what you said during that fight just now, but if you were hard on him for how he reacted, you owe him an apology tomorrow morning and that's final."

"Pepp-" Tony protests. 

"That's final," she repeats, stopping him with a kiss, pulling away with a firm look that settled the issue. Tony sighs and gives her a nod against his will. "So how did it go?" she asked hesitantly, unsure if she wanted to know more about the yelling match between father and son.

"As expected. He's just so excited. _Eager,"_ Tony insists, staring straight ahead in disbelief. "He feels like he's ready even though he's not. And I'm the bad guy for telling him to slow down and breath while he's a kid. I never got to be a kid. I just want that for him." He shrugs in wonder, "But he keeps reminding me I'm not Howard and...I'm scared I'm trying to be so much like the opposite of my father I'll eventually turn into him just...the reverse him-"

Tony presses his free hand to his head to rub his temple as he sighs in exhaustion. "What am I saying? This kid has gotten me all twisted around. I just wish he would listen to me." 

"Yeah, because that's what kids do," Pepper smirked softly and that invoked in a twitching lip from her husband- as close as she was going to get to a smile at this point of their conversation. 

"You're right," Tony admitted, ducking his head with a small sigh. "I _still_ don't listen," he points out, hearing a huff of agreement from his wife next to him. 

"Yeah, it's your genes," Pepper teased. "And we'll figure that out, Tony. We will. But the harder you try and keep him from this hero business, the more he's gonna fall right into it," she told him firmly.

"You know he told me that?" Tony said with a shake of his head. "But in Star Wars terms. He quoted Star Wars to me, and dammit, it was a great reference too. You know when they're about to blow up Alderaan and Princess Leia says that 'the more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers'? He said that to me, can you believe that?"

"Yes," Pepper decides with a small smile, trying to suppress it after she sees the insulted look on her husband's face. It was his own doing, the millions of times they had marathoned the trilogy. "So what did you say?" she prompts, trying to keep her voice level.

"I said that he was comparing himself to Princess Leia in that analogy and said it made sense because he had long enough hair to put into little space buns," Tony sniffed in satisfaction, extremely proud of his jab back. Pepper can picture Peter's face and wonders how they ever managed to get back on topic or even angry at each other. 

She laughed at the complex and beautiful relationship between the father and his son, "Between the two of you." Then she speaks slowly, giving him time to cut in hopefully. "But Tony..."

"I know he's got a point." He says it before she can and she nods, content. "Don't tell him I said that though," Tony adds quickly to keep his pride in tact, rubbing his tired eyes and bobbing his head in acceptance. They lapse into silence, which is meaningful in and of itself. The crackling of the fire fills the room, and their minds are overwhelmed with thoughts, unable to relax as they recount the horrors of the past week alone and what it means the for the future. 

One thing is on Pepper's mind however, that she needs to address. She noticed the moment Peter came running to hug her in New York. Some childhood innocence was gone. The flicker of light she had loved, cherished, adored, prayed he’d keep for the rest of his life- it had dimmed. Not a significant amount, but enough that she recognized it. He was too young to have that look, like someone who has been through hell. It wasn’t right. And she saw it. And it terrified her.

She broke the silence with a small, "I just..." There was a pause before she finally blurted out with a shake of her head and a horrible feeling in her chest, "His _eyes_...Tony-" Just picturing it again made her stomach flip. She wasn't sure if Tony would understand, maybe she was just imagining things- 

"I see it too," Tony said in a low voice, and she wasn't sure if the gloss was the light from the fire or something else. "Yeah, I see it too," he repeats tightly in a strained exhale. Pepper swallows and nods, moving closer and resting her head against his.

Tony's shaking. She is as well. 

* * *

Months after the battle of New York, things had slowly returned to normal. If there was a normal in the Stark household. It was a Saturday, which meant no school for Peter. The young boy was saddened he didn't get to see MJ, but grateful he didn't have to deal with any bullies and thrilled that he was awake with the sun. 

He shoved his sheets and blankets aside in eagerness and sprinted down the hall to his parents room. Skidding to a stop on the carpet and nearly slipping, his smile froze as he teetered on one foot, before he grabbed the doorknob for support and regained his wide grin. Once he got his footing, he turned the knob and flew into the room, bounding across the floor and taking a running jump onto the bad, immediately clamoring over to his father. 

"Dad! Dad! Come on, Dad, we gotta go, wake up!" he giggles excitedly, shaking his father's shoulder to jostle the man who's bedhead was sticking in all directions. Tony groans and turns over at the excessive pushing and pulling as he's roughly yanked from his sleep. He squints at Peter before he pulls a blanket up over his head and returns to sleep.

His son glares in annoyance, waiting a second before wrestling for the edge of the comforter. Tony's got it curled in his fist which he has buried beneath his chest and it takes all of Peter's strength to pull it from Tony's head, nearly tumbling head over heels. 

"Dad? Daaad," he drawls out the word in order to get some response, getting nothing in return as he pokes his father's back. His eyebrows knit and he sucks in a big breath, sitting down with his legs crossed. It's an innocent calm....before the storm. Tony lets out a small groan; he knows what's coming. He buries his head deeper into the pillow, further messing up his twisted and flattened curls.

"Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad, dad, dad-"

Pepper opens one eye sleepily and smirks, a light smile tugging at her lips as she yawns quietly and moves to brush Tony's shoulder. "Your son...is awake..." she announces lightly. 

"Yeah, I heard that, honey," Tony says over the voice of their kid and Pepper gives him a tired smile, brushing some of her fiery hair from her eyes. She reaches to squeeze Peter's hand and give him a wink before she promptly falls back asleep, Peter's voice still echoing in the background. 

"Dad, dad, dad- oof!" Peter falls onto his back as a pillow is launched at his face and he giggles as he lands in a heap on the bed. Pulling the pillow down so he can see, he lets it rest on his chest, lifting his head up from where he's now laying. A victorious grin appears on his face as Tony begins to shift, grumbling to himself.

"Tony," Pepper chides sleepily, scolding him for the pillow retaliation. One couldn't blame the Stark; he hadn't had his coffee yet. Tony usually downed a pot, which everyone said was bad for him. Funny thing was no one could give him any evidence that it was, and even if it was...he'd take the risk. It also helped him deal with the Saturday morning chaos, courtesy of their overexcited son. Today, though, Tony understood. 

"Okay, okay. I'm up, kiddo. I'm up," Tony yawns as he leans over to kiss Pepper before stretching with his eyes squeezed shut, muscles straining, then relaxing. "Sheesh," he mutters, sliding his legs off the side of the bed, rubbing a hand over his eyes to clear the sleep and try and sharpen his vision. He moves his hand because Peter appears at his side, sitting on the edge of the bed as well, kicking his legs in anticipation.

"I don't even remember saying yes to a take my son to work day," Tony says slowly, cocking his head to the side in fake confusion, blinking in long intervals to try and wake himself up. Peter had been begging since the beginning of time to go to 'work' with his father, even if it was just tinkering in the lab. And since Peter had school during the week, the only real time to do those activities for a longer period of time was the weekend.

And besides school, Peter had another road block in his way. Since the battle of New York happened, they had been cautious of what they allowed the boy to do, despite being on the other side of the country. 

The look Peter gives him when Tony jokes that he had forgotten what he had promised a couple days before is priceless. The man snickers, his son's expressions calming as he realizes it's a tease before he screws his face into a frown and mutters, "That's not funny." 

"It's very funny," Tony corrects as he slides off the bed, Peter right behind him, stepping on his heels as they cross the room. Tony opens the door and they walk out, shutting it quietly so Pepper can sleep in for a bit longer. Peter turns for his room, figuring that now that his father is up he can go change and they can eat a quick breakfast but Tony's hand on his shoulder gently twists him in an about face. "Come on, pit stop first," he says with a smile. 

"Where are we going?" Peter asked slowly as they walked down the hallway for the steps. He looked down and tugged at his shirt as he starts to lunge up them two at a time, daring to not use the rail. "I'm in PJs," he complains.

"It's not that cold outside," Tony shrugs as they walk upstairs, passing the level with the balcony which is where Peter thought they were going. Instead they go into Tony's office on the upper level and Peter watches his dad in curious suspicion as Tony wrenches open the window. Tony snags a steaming cup from the coffee maker in the corner, grinning. "Jarvis, you know me so well."

_"I should hope so sir, you programmed me."_

"Can I have some?" Peter grinned hopefully, leaning on the desk so he can stare at the coffee in his father's hands. 

"No." (A frown from Peter.) His face changes however as Tony sets his thermos down on the flat roof outside of the window and then ducks, pulling himself through and outside of the house. 

"Dad..." Peter trails off as he crosses the room and peaks out onto the roof in caution. But he really wants to go out there. Maybe it was the rebel in him. No sooner as he had made the wish, Tony puts out his hands and Peter clasps them in glee so he can pull himself up and clamber onto the roof. 

"Don't get near the edge," Tony tells him and Peter scoots backward once they settle down, both of their feet out in front of them. The balcony had a covering for a little ways, a flat awning of solid iron that was underneath the window of Tony's study- the perfect view of the ocean and current sunrise. The sky is a splash of colors, heat warming the spot they are sitting and casting a brilliant glow on their faces. The morning wind ruffles the curls of the man and his son, two pairs of chocolate brown eyes staring in wonder at the beautiful scene ahead of them, ripped off of a painting and plastered into the sky. 

Or actually, because Peter never understood why a painting was considered prettier than something in real life, something that should be drawn delicately on a canvas. The clouds are scattered and the ocean is rippling below, a low crash of the waves spraying along the rocks. 

"This is cool," Peter says in satisfaction. 

Tony nods and leans back, setting his coffee down so he can put his arm around his son who leans into his side and stares at the bright light peaking from the horizon of sea until his eyes sting. "Yeah it is, kiddo."

"Does mom know you do this?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"Do what?" Tony asks innocently and Peter grins with a nod. Then he points and Peter follows his finger to the ocean that's dipped in color from the sun. "That right there...that's why I put on the suit every day," Tony says simply.

The reason why he liked sunsets so much really dampened the mood, which is why he never told Peter. But it was because when he was held prisoner in Afghanistan, he rarely got to see the sun, set or rise. He was stuck in that cave for months, and it made him realize how much he had missed the sun. The day he came back he sat on the balcony with Pepper and a baby Peter nestled in his arms and just watched with teary eyes as the sun dissapeared into the ocean on the horizon with a clash of colors. It was something so simple, that he had both overlooked and taken for granted in his younger, more naive years, something he never wanted to do again. 

"You put your suit on because there's a sun?" Peter questions, his eyebrow raising in question.

Tony sighs and turns, thankfully glad to be rid of the dark memories that lurked in the back of his mind. But now Peter is staring up at him with such a blank expression that he turns to sarcasm and sighs, "I'm gonna be philosophical for a second, give a minute to ease into it. See now you ruined the moment."

"No," Peter giggles, pushing his father's shoulder lightly. "I want to know," he says seriously with a nod, signalling that he's ready for the valuable piece of fatherly wisdom.

"Because this world is a messed up place," Tony admits with a dry laugh, before he gives a content nod. "But there's still some good in it. That right there, happens every time we wake up. Even on days when stuff doesn't go our way." He watches as Peter turns his face towards the sun and it's lit up in wonder and appreciation, something Tony hopes never goes away. Children had a wonderful habit of appreciating the small things in life, and having a better outlook on the world torn by corruption. He hoped Peter could remain blind to it for as long as possible in some aspects. 

"It hurts my eyes to stare at it," Peter squints before burying his face in his fists and rubbing to ease the sting in his watering eyes.

Tony's snorts at his genius son, "Then don't look at it." Peter snickers at the insult and groans as he gets his eyesight back and Tony's smile grows at his actions. Then the older man's eyebrow raise. "Although, you can tell me why you woke me up at the crack of dawn today?" he asks with slight annoyance, still trying to get the sleep out of his eye. He yawns and then drowns it in a gulp of coffee, adding, "Don't twelve year olds get tired of jumping on their parents beds? I thought that was only for Christmas."

"Not when I get to work on the lab for the day," Peter says triumphantly with a grin. "That's equivalent to Christmas," he sniffs.

"It is, is it?" Tony snorts, reaching over and ruffling his hair, greeted by his son's annoyed whine as he immediately ducks his head away and straightens his curls that were messy long before Tony tousled them. "You'll have enough time in the lab when you _own_ the lab, Pete."

"I'm gonna _own_ the lab?" Peter chokes, his eyes wide as he turns to him, hands falling to his side. 

"Yeah, it's not gonna be mine forever," Tony chuckles, nodding forward sarcastically. "You see that sun? It's gonna go _retire_ at the end of the day. I'm gonna get old and cranky and shove all my problems onto someone and that someone is you," he jokes. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," Peter beams in pride, like that was what he wanted more than anything in the world.

Tony turns to him and waves his hand as he settles down with his back up against the side of the building. "All this 'I want to grow up and be like you', what did you think that was gonna be? I run a business, I don't fly around and blow things up in a lab for a living."

"Mom runs the business," Peter points out with a cock of his head in confusion. "And you do fly around and blow things up in a lab."

Tony speaks into his coffee mug and jerks his head to the side, "Technicality." 

"So wait..." Peter's grin begins to widen as the gears turn in his head. "All of Stark Industries and everything...that's gonna fall to me?" Peter doesn't know why he didn't think of that before, but now it all makes sense. He was twelve now, he reminded himself proudly, he understood so much more than he did when he was eleven. 

"Yeah," Tony nods, before he looks over his shoulder, thoughtfully. He had originally thought leaving the company to Peter would be unfair to the young Stark, but over the years, without Tony's pushing, he's already trying to walk in the big shoes that Tony hasn't even gotten out of yet. Tony wanted him to be a kid for a while longer, but Peter was just so excited for the future. He guessed they could do both. So Tony plays along and shrugs, admitting, "Probably the house too."

"I get the flatscreen?" Peter gasps, which they had both decided was the jewel of the entire villa, where they got to binge movies and watch shows after Peter was finished with his homework. That TV was their pride and joy, the only room in the entire house where no parts of the iron man suits were allowed. It was also, Pepper mumbled to guests once in a while, the only thing the two of them bothered cleaning. The various robots did the rest of the work, but Tony and Peter dusted that thing like it was made of gold.

"No, you don't get the flat screen, I'm taking that," Tony decides, gulping down some more coffee with a smirk. 

Peter groans in disappointment. Then he bites his lip and screws up his face, asking, "What about that creepy porcelain doll that mom has on the dresser?"

"That's gonna accidentally fall in an incinerator," Tony says firmly before he laughs and turns, "What are you doing? Having me write out my will?" 

"Just asking," his son says with a small giggle. "But I don't know how to run a company! I just know how to fight the bad guys."

"There's more to my job then fighting the bad guys," Tony tells him firmly. When Peter cocks his head he sighs, "Pete, it's about helping people. The greater good, even if that means making sacrifices, or doing business with people who do bad things."

"But, dad," Peter snorts, as if that's the craziest thing in the world, which it should be. "Why are we working with the people who do bad stuff?" Peter looks at Tony who nods slowly with a sigh, hanging his head. That was the question, wasn't it? Peter searches for his gaze in awe and blurts out, "You're Iron Man, can't you just...I don't know, make them stop?"

"I wish, kiddo," Tony chuckles. "But it's not always that simple. Kid, there are some people I don't trust. But if helping them means I save other people's lives? I'm gonna do it. Steve and I? Have had to do a lot of Avengers stuff where we go to the enemy to get some information. Because it helps us win. Just like we have to make some scary choices to make sure the world stays safe. We pick our battles, we lose today so that we can win tomorrow."

"Oh," Peter says thoughtfully, soaking in all that information. "Like how you didn't kill Loki?"

The name sends a tense feeing throughout his entire body and Tony nods stiffly, gripping his coffee mug in a tight fist. "Yeah, Pete."

"He was scared of you, I saw it," Peter told him, recalling the moment of Loki's departure to Azguard at the end of the battle which he had witnessed at the side- the way Loki took a step back when Tony sized him up. 

Tony looks over with a small smile and gives a gentle laugh, "Because nobody messes with your dad." He ruffles his hair affectionately and this time Peter doesn't pull away, he just shifts so he's leaning against Tony and he stretches with a yawn, staring at the sun that is nearly above the water, skimming the surface. 

"Dad?" he asked suddenly, looking upside down at his father who stops messing with his curls to blink. 

"Yeah, bud."

"We're good, right?" Peter asks. Tony's chest warms. The kid is referencing the controversy over the events of the day, and the many fights that still occurred over what happened, and the massive one that happened that one night the day they got home. His son is looking at him worriedly and Tony's slow smile eases his worry marks. 

The older Stark chuckles and nods, "Yeah, Peter. We're good. We always are. You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right? Even if you're pissed at me? Even if you do a really bad thing that you don't want anyone to know? You can still talk to me about it. And even if I'm pissed at you for doing something stupid, I'll still have your back when it comes down to it. You know that?" he asks quietly. 

Peter nods. "Yeah. And you're not going anywhere, right? Like what if I have a question though, about the suits or about-"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Pete. But of course I'll be there," Tony stops him with assurance. "Every step of the way, don't you worry."

"Okay," Peter says happily, and Tony reaches over to hand him the cup of coffee, the boy grabbing it greedily with a small cry of triumph. Tony chuckles at the reaction to caffeine and lifts his arm so Peter can sit up as he drinks. He instead settles on watching the sunrise as the bright ball of gas finally rises fully into the sky over the ocean, it's rays illuminating everything in it's path. 

After a couple minutes he holds out his hand, "Alright. Hand it back. Don't drink all of it."

"It's already done," Peter says with a loud sigh, tipping the mug over to prove it and Tony's jaw drops as Peter giggles and stretches on the roof. "I can feel the energy pulsing through my veins already. My eyesight is sharp, I have a coffee sense."

"It doesn't work like that," Tony snorts, grabbing the cup back and staring at the lack of contents in dismay, letting the last drop fall onto the rough where it slides down. He sighs with a roll of his eyes, "Great." Tony watches the last bit of pink and purple fade into the bright sky and the sun rise completes it's cycle. 

"I'm gonna be so hyper." 

"Never giving you coffee again." 

There's suddenly a knock on the door inside and Tony cranes his neck to look inside his office. He returns back and Peter gives him a questioning glance. The man sighs and pats his knee. "It's Obadiah. I don't know why he's up so early. You good staying here while I go see what he wants?"

Peter nods, comfy where he is on the warm roof. "Yeah, I'm good."

Tony trusts him and gets to his feet, leaning against the wall as he slips back to the window, calling over his shoulder, "Don't fall off."

Peter smirks at his words and spends the next couple minutes following the waves to shore and watching the birds fly from tree to tree. He hears muffled voices from inside but the beauty in front of him outweighs his curiosity, especially since he knows that he's getting his fill of 'Stark Industries heir knowledge' for the day. Sooner than expected, Tony sticks his head out the window and Peter looks over, thinking he's gonna come back out which is good because he just saw the the coolest reflection on the water and-

"Hey, kiddo, come in and hang out with Obie for a bit while I go downstairs and look some stuff up," he asks him with a pleading smile. "I don't want to leave him here all alone and you seem to always talk to it's a perfect opportunity."

Peter sighs in annoyance and Tony gives him a prompting look. The young boy takes one more look at the sun that's hovering over the water, reminding himself to wake up this early all the time so he can drag his dad back out to the roof before obeying. Then he makes his way over and Tony moves aside so he can hop back into the office through the open window. 

Once he's firmly on the ground, Peter wipes his hands and goes to the coffee maker where there's a new cup already brewed, but Tony snags it before he can get there. "Absolutely not," the older Stark chides, before he rustles his son's hair and points to the man standing by the desk. "Okay. Talk. Bond. I'll be back in ten tops."

"The kid's gonna get tired of me if I have to talk to him for ten minutes," Obadiah laughs, his eyes crinkling fakely. 

He's right, he'll get tired in two seconds, but Peter doesn't say that out loud. He finally turns and glances quickly at the man in front of him, leaning against the bookshelf. 

"Okay, I'll be back sooner," Tony shrugged with a smile before he leaves the room, giving Peter a reassuring and also encouraging look that his son counters with a bland one. He hasn't even rested his gaze on the older man for more than two seconds yet, which means he's gonna have to since he's been told to hold a conversation.

"So..." Obadiah says happily, slipping his hands into his pockets as he looks down at Peter from across the room, "Peter Stark..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN  
> Theres gonna be more obadiah to start of next chapter i didnt want to write him in depth for the couple seconds we just got to see him so teehee thats coming  
> I cant WAIT to write the next chapter so hold onto your hats its gonna get crazy  
> Im currently watching Merlin as well- which is amazing btw the arthur merlin bromance is absolutely amazing and i love them with my whole heart ummm yeah  
> ALSO WHATS UP WITH THE SNOW i know were all from all over the world but let me just say they were like omg huge snowstorm no school for like three days coming up  
> adn then it was one day off because of a singular patch of ice and snow you could literally flick off and i was like wow  
> my county is WIMPY so XD  
> ANYWAY i hope you liked it, please leave your thoughts down below i love hearing from you guys!!! thank you for reading :))))) have a wonderful day everyone and weekend!!! Destress, vibe, and stay tuned for the next chapter!  
> I love you all 3000 <3 <3 <3


	9. A Spark of Deceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLLOOOOOOOo lovely readers!!!!!! SO this.....was not how i planned this to go XD this conversation was not supposed to last this long and then the other conversation wasnt even supposed to happen but thats the beauty of writing i guess it all just kinda....happens???? SO i think think is one of my favs simply because i just....wrote and didnt stop and its not half bad haha  
> School has been kicking by B U T T tho its been great so to all of you who are drowning w hmwk: i feel ya BIG TIME.  
> This is me 7 hours later lol OMG SO NO SCHOOL TMRW FOR US YEET so im gonna post this one and ill actually have time to writeeeee Im hyped for the next oen as well which was supposed to be this one but then i just got carried away  
> ANYWAY i hope you like it, theres nothing better than the combination of sleep deprivation, marvel, lion king, a long day, and no coffee. And a freakishly cold room that too.  
> SO i take it a lot of you hate Obadiah (im loving the comments and the anger towards him <3 <3 <3 haha) which is good, because youll hate him even more!  
> I'm somehow running on...no coffee???? and ill have to pull off this magic trick for like three more days ahhhhh i might die so im so sorry if we never get another chapter blame it on the lack of coffee  
> I hope you all are doing wellllll <3 <3 wanda vision comes out tmrw (because technically today is thursday muahah time) so weve got that to look forward to! If youre having bad weather stay safe everyone and in these crazy times stay healthy! Also and this should be first and foremost but im a mess today- thank you so much for everyone who has read, commented, and supported in any way you guys are the best i love hearing from you and i cant thank you enough!  
> Read on awesome people i hope you enjoy :)))))))))))))))

The first thing Peter did was make coffee. He picked up one of the white porcelain mugs that were resting upside down on a soft place mat before he slid it into place in the coffee maker. Then he pushed the big button and heard it start to brew in satisfaction. He didn't know why he did it. All he knew was that Obadiah heard Tony tell him no to coffee and Peter was going to gauge his reaction. 

Sure enough, when he looked over his shoulder, the man was smirking at him as the coffee brewed, the liquid peculating softly as it began to drip into the waiting cup. Apparently Peter had shown his hand at his turn around however.

"I won't tell," Obadiah assured, putting his hands palms facing out in surrender. Peter didn't ask for his support, and he voiced that in his look of sarcastic thanks, eyes twitching with a twinge of annoyance. The older man was playing along. Problem was that Peter didn't really know what he learned from that response. And he couldn't exactly ponder it at the moment so he'd figure it out later. 

Peter finally got a good look at Obadiah as he tried not to narrow his eyes. He was wearing a dark suit with a blue tie and a white shirt, already dressed formally despite the early morning hour. His beard was a mix of black hairs and grey and his eyes were the same kaleidoscope of dark colors. Peter never liked kaleidoscopes. They were too deceptive. It was a swirling pool of black and grey, and Peter was never able to read his eyes the way he could read other people's. Either he wasn't hiding something or he was too good at covering whatever it was up. 

Right now, Obadiah was standing with his hands in his pockets, leaning against Tony's desk, which Peter didn't really like. It seemed possessive, like he wanted to be in here some day. Peter tried to change his perceptive for the sake of his father, since this was after all, like an older brother to him. The leaning on the desk: just an old friend who felt comfortable with the place he helped build from nothing. And his leg simply was getting sore.

It was definitely the first one.

To answer the burning question, Peter never really knew why he didn't like Obadiah. He just had a bad feeling whenever he was around him, and it wouldn't go away. He didn't know when it had started either, possibly at birth, because he had had this suspicion for as long as he could remember. But the man was pretty involved in his life since he had been like a mentor to Tony, so it wasn't like he could ignore him or treat him like the enemy.

They had their occasional run ins and dinners, and every once in a while some time where they were both left alone in the same room. Like now. Nine minutes left. If Tony came back in ten on the dot, which he probably wouldn't.

It all seemed rather silly for someone looking in; Obadiah had done nothing to make him upset or make him doubt his loyalty to his dad in any way. In fact, Tony trusted him with his life. In some ways, Peter felt guilty that he felt wrong around the man, like he was going against his dad. 

So he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, because he did have a topic to discuss- their conversation on the roof and his future at Stark Industries. "Guess what, Obadiah?" Peter asked with a sly smile as he turned fully to face him with his arms crossed in cockiness. 

"I don't get a hi first?" the man chuckled, and his eyes crinkled at the sides, his forehead creasing as his mouth twisted into a wry smile. He got up from where he was leaning against the desk and opened his arms, his black shoes flashing as he uncrossed his legs and moved to the side so Peter had a clear path. 

The boy moved forward against his will, of the sake of his dad mostly, and gave him a hug. It was stiff internally, but meaningful externally, like how two cousins who hated each other hugged at a family reunion. It was awkward, but they pretended it wasn't. Obadiah rested a hand on his head when he set himself straight and clicked his tongue in shock, muttering, "Damn, you're getting tall, kid."

He didn't like the hand on his head. Not at all. Only his dad could do that without Peter getting annoyed. It was a good thing he removed it with a slight ruffle. So instead, Peter focused on the height compliment. "Sure am," he spoke proudly, puffing out his chest a bit. "I'm gonna be taller than my dad one day," he said firmly, trying to straighten his back and lift his heels just slightly. 

"Well that's not saying much," Obadiah smirked, winking at him, and a smile wrestled on Peter's lips as it usually did when he was around the man and he made a joke that was genuinely funny. Peter didn't like giving anyone the satisfaction of knowing they were funny unless he was sure they were a good person. When bad guys were funny it just wasn't the same. 

"Well guess what," he said again, circling back to his original thought as he sank down in his dad's chair on the other side of the table after rounding it in a joyful stride. He used his feet to move the chair side to side, the half cup of coffee he had pounded down now starting to take affect. 

"I'm not good at guessing games," the man joked, sinking into a seat with a groan on the other side of the desk. If Peter had given him time, Obadiah would have made some joke about how his joints popped because he was old, although there was nothing funny in that. Peter also never understood why people laughed at jokes that were not funny. You know, maybe he just didn't understand adults. And fake people.

Because of that, Peter did not give him a chance to say a joke he wouldn't laugh at, cause then that would be awkward to just sit there. Instead he blurted out, "I'm gonna be the next owner of Stark Industries."

He spun around in his chair at that moment, heels pushing against the ground as he twisted himself in a circle, and as his back was turned the man's face steeled- just for a quick second. When Peter did the full loop it was lax, but as he was facing away, a smoldering glower was placed in his direction. A look of absolute hate was pointed directly at the young boy in the chair. 

Swallowing sarcasm, bile, and pride in one massive gulp, Obadiah let out a, "Oh, goodee," through grit teeth. He rubbed a hand over his mouth to smooth out the muscles that were just itching to frown. "Did you figure that out recently, Peter?" he snorted slightly as the boy turned back to face him. "It's always been meant to fall to you." 

Peter's lip curled and admitted, "Well yeah," before quickly adding with a slight squirm of excitement in his seat, "but my dad just explained everything to me. How I'm gonna get the suits, and the company, and maybe the house too!"

Obadiah smiled tightly, "Yes. Well...forgive me for not leaping for joy," he motioned behind him, "bad back, you know. I'm getting old."

He chuckled then. Peter did not laugh. In fact, his mouth did not even twitch. Instead he brought his legs up to sit criss-crossed on the large seat and he planted his chin in his palms, staring forward in curiosity. "Hey, Obadiah?" he asks thoughtfully, and the man raises an eyebrow, signalling him to ask the question. "When I take over Stark Industries, what will that make you?" He adds curiously, "Are you going to retire?"

"God no," the man snorts and Peter watches him carefully, a flicker of confusion rushing across his face. Obadiah settles himself and takes a breath before he lets out a gruff laugh, "I'm not retiring any time soon. I'll simply be the supportive crutch you can lean on just like I was for your father."

Peter can't help but giggle, "You were a crutch to my dad?" He didn't mean for it to be condescending, he was just trying to picture it, since Obadiah was much taller than Tony. But apparently it came across wrong. 

Obadiah's face darkened slightly. He went to defend himself immediately with a clench of his jaw, "I watched over him until he was fit to take over the company, son. And I will do the same for you."

"Thanks," Peter says slowly. "I guess? But I don't need help," he said firmly, preening with confidence, possibly premature, but he didn't know the difference. "I'm gonna be ready."

"Tony thought so too. But even he needed a while to get the hang of it all. You'll thank me later," Obadiah assured him, like he knew better than him, which he did- Peter understood he had more years than experience. But he still didn't want to accept anything from him.

That was another thing Peter hated: when people talked down to him. They treated him like a kid all the time, and even though, yes, he was a kid, he was also the son of Tony Stark. That alone should check enough boxes for people to not look at him like he was this adorable little innocent baby. He had fought his way through the streets of New York and already knew how to reroute a electric current through a hyperstatic or statically indeterminate cage. He doubted even Obadiah knew how to do that. 

"You've got a lot to learn, kid," Obadiah said with another eye crinkle as he stared at the boy in something that was an eerie version of fondness. Peter bit his lip about the rerouting an electric current comment. "So to answer your question," Obadiah leaned back with a deep sigh and stroked his chin thoughtfully as he finally landed on a response, "I'll be a monkey's uncle."

He wasn't his uncle, but he liked to call himself that. Uncle Rhodey was different; both Tony and Peter referred to him as such. But never Obadiah. So because of this funny name the older man had awarded himself with even though no one had given him permission to use it, Peter snorted, "You're weird."

"You have no idea," Obadiah laughed and shook his head at him lightly. Then he kicked his legs up on the side of the desk and leaned back, clasping his hands over his chest. "Someone needs to stick around and help you learn the ropes." He lifts his palm before Peter can cut in and bobs his head, "And I know that's your dad's arena, but he's not always going to be there."

Peter's gaze flashed as it met his, especially due to the fact that he hadn't let him cut in and Obadiah's chin raised, surprised by the familiar fire behind the young boy's eyes. "He said he would be," Peter said dismissively, avoiding eye contact a second later out of anger. 

"Of course he _said_ he would be," Obadiah chuckles like Peter had just made a funny joke, ignoring the dead seriousness in the boy's voice. "That's what fathers do," he drawls, and the boy's eyebrows knit almost immediately, his gaze snapping back just like Obadiah knew it would. 

"He wouldn't lie to me," Peter snarled, suddenly defensive, sitting up in his chair. His heart skipped a small beat. Tony had never lied to him, and he believed he never would. That was one of the things that he held to be true. He built everything around his trust in his father. 

"Oh of course not," Obadiah assures him and Peter starts to ease himself into his seat, settling back down at the false alarm. "Not intentionally, no. But Tony's not going to always be there for every single question you have, not when he hands the company over. Then his job is done. He'll retire. And it will be left to you. That's part of growing up. You want to grow up, don't you Peter?"

Peter bit his tongue and then spoke slowly, "Yes." He swallowed, cocking his head slightly in confusion. 

Obadiah nodded like he had just solved all of his problems, "So you've got to learn how to do things on your own, for when your dad isn't there to hold your hand and guide you. He won't be there every step of the way when you're older. You're gonna miss taking these baby steps later."

"I will?" Peter whispered, slightly scared at the mention of a world where he didn't have his dad by his side.

"But it's okay, kiddo," Obadiah says quickly, sensing his distress. He gives him some encouragement. "You've got a good support system waiting for you. We'll get you there. And that fire that your father has is already in you, I can tell. New York proved that," he gave him a pointed look with a small nod that Peter took as admiration.

The young boy blushed, cheeks tinted red. "You know about that?" he mumbled. 

Obadiah chuckles at Peter with a start of a smile, and tells him, "Peter, everyone knows about that." That made the young boy stare at the ground, his feet bumping against the ground as he lost his interest in spinning. "Lucky daddy was there to save you though, eh? Tony pulled through, and just in time too."

"Loki wasn't going to kill me," Peter snorted. He knew that for sure. The man had slapped him, but that was about the extent. He knew better than to hurt Peter while Tony was in the room. Call his father what you wanted, but even his protectiveness was respected among all. 

"Of course not," Obadiah agreed. "He could have done worse though, without killing you." He said it so casually, making Peter feel he needed to keep his shock dampened. He raised a simple eyebrow to prompt the man.

"People keep other people alive if they have value. Loki couldn't kill you because Tony needed to show up. Just like how the Ten Rings kept Tony alive, but I'm sure your dad has told you all about that," Obadiah explained simply with a small shrug, settling into the back of his chair. He had purposefully slipped in that last sentence though, that he knew the young boy would not ignore, and sure enough, Peter spoke up, his interest peaked. 

"He told me enough," Peter says firmly, but his eyes spoke differently. He was hanging over the edge with curiosity, and Obadiah would gladly dangle the fruit to make him reach and lose his hand hold. He had spoken a statement, but it was more similar to a question. 

Obadiah takes a strategic pause, "You seem like you think there's more."

Peter scowls a bit that the man didn't take the direct bait. But maybe that was better. He allows fate to decide as he mumbles, "I looked up online what he didn't tell me."

"So he didn't tell you everything." There was something woven into his voice that Peter couldn't quite place. Was it mockery?

"I understand why he didn't though," Peter adds furiously, as if defending not only his father but himself too and their entire relationship. "It was hard for him to talk about."

Obadiah nods innocently and puts his hands up in surrender, a look of respect in his gaze, "Of course. I was there, Peter. I remember the day he came back. But surely you have to know that there's more than what was allowed to be written about for the public to see. He didn't tell you any of that?"

A frown makes it's way onto Peter's face as he swallows his next words. "Well...no, he didn't," the young Stark said slowly in disappointment. "There's more?" he wonders.

"Of course there's more," Obadiah chuckles in confusion before he re-centers himself and rubs his own knee, looking up in understanding. "But your father is absolutely right for not telling you." He de-escelates the situation to Peter's dismay, waving his hand and telling him, "You're not ready to hear what really happened. We wouldn't want to stain that beautiful image you have in your head of being a hero. You're still young."

"I need to know! I'm not young, I'm almost a teenager! Obadiah, please?" he begs, but it's not time for the puppy eyes, it's just a serious plea. This is about his father. 

The man chuckles lightly, "Peter, I'm doing my part in protecting you. It's a full time gig around here." The boy's gaze darkens at that and he crosses his arms, glaring at him with misdirected anger, letting out a large sigh. Obadiah watches him carefully as he lets the next words roll off his tongue, "You're too innocent to know what they _really_ did to your father."

Peter's gaze became that of horror and confusion. His eyes narrowed and his breathing became shallow, eyesight sharpened as his senses worked in perfect harmony to focus. "Did- what did they do?" Horrible images crash through his mind that he subtly eases his head to the side, propping it up on his palm so he can dig his hand into his temple and ease the thoughts away. He instinctively curls his knees tighter to his chest.

Obadiah winced and ran a hand over his mouth and chin, slowly shaking his head before he readjusted his suit, buttoning it in the center. "I shouldn't tell you," he decides. "Torture is not something for a young boy like you to be-" he stops in surprise at the word he let slip and looks at Peter who flinched, his eyes widening. Oops, he thinks, fighting the urge to smile. 

"Torture?" Peter repeats quietly- fearfully. Years ago, he had searched up what happened, a couple news articles here and there. They all pointed to the fact that Tony was forced to make a missile for the terrorists that had kidnapped him, all while the people from the States were sending out rescue mission after rescue mission to help find him. The leading story that went through every newspaper chain imaginable was that his father had outwitted the Ten Ring leaders, because instead of building the missile, Tony had built the suit that he used to escape- the birth of Iron Man. 

"I've said too much," Obadiah mutters quietly, scratching the back of his neck. "But I fear you would have found out sooner or later, you being so clever and all. Its why your father was so worried about you in New York when Loki had you. He was afraid Loki would hurt you."

"But I'm just a kid," Peter laughed nervously. 

"You think the enemy cares?" Obadiah snorts. "Besides, a second ago you were saying you were the heir to Stark Industries," Obadiah pointed out, before he folded his hands together and gave him a firm and icy stare. "That is what the enemy sees you as. They don't see you as a little boy, they see you as a target. When you become the next owner of the company, even more so. This road you're going down is a dangerous one Peter, your future will not be easy."

He paused again, leaving Peter to stare from where he was perched at the edge of his seat, muscles tense, gears turning in his mind. Obadiah shook his head and sighed, cracking a smile as he announced, "But you're young. Vibrant, full of life. And your identity is a secret. You don't have to worry about that stuff just yet. Although, I am not fond of being the one to warn you of this. This should come from your dad, but I take it since he never told you about what happened with him and the Ten Rings," he clucks his tongue sadly in that, looking sadly at Peter before he purses his lips. "This talk will come later."

"How later?" Peter demands, tense.

Obadiah suppressed a smile. Just as Peter was Tony's weak spot, Tony was Peter's. If he targeted their relationship, everything would crumple around it. So he slapped on an innocent look and asked, "He really didn't tell you about the Ten Rings?"

 _"Did- did the bad guys- did they hurt you?" Peter demanded firmly, staring right through him._ _The older Stark froze, his jaw clenching as he avoided his son's gaze. Peter swore he saw his father's body shake._ _"Daddy?" he prompted._

_Tony's gaze snapped back to his son and locked eyes with him in affectionate firmness. Then he gave him a smile full of love and assured him, "No, no kiddo. Of course not."_

"No," Peter whispered, and he couldn't hide the twinge of hurt in his voice. "He said they didn't hurt him," he recalls, before stuttering, "May- maybe you're wrong. Obadiah, he wouldn't lie to me." His voice wavers, and the older man notices. He's on the edge, he just needs a slight push. 

"Peter," he said compassionately, and the boy's gaze found his eyes, hopeful. "You know it's true," he said sincerely.

Peter did.

Obadiah sees the flash in his eyes and watches as young boy process the fact that Tony had kept something from him. The older man continues before the boy can get his bearings, hoping to overwhelm him, "You're just trying to figure out why he didn't tell you the truth. He did it to protect you. To shelter you. That's what father's do. You can't think their words are written in stone. A white lie, an avoidance of the truth to protect you from the greater pain will happen once in a while, right under your nose. To make sure you stay a kid as long as possible."

"What if I don't want to stay a kid?" Peter demanded, like he was sure of it now. His fists were clenched and his eyes were stinging with anger, chest hot. "What if I'm tired of people treating me like I'm small, like I need to slow down. Why doesn't he get that?"

Obadiah rather enjoyed the small preview of the spiral he had kicked into gear, the new chasm he had opened in the boy's mind, a door that couldn't be closed. "It's not your dad's fault Peter," he says smoothly. "You're his entire world. He cares about you, he wants to make sure you're ready." Then his gaze changes while Peter looks away with a low mumble.

"He just doesn't realize your full potential," he says in a harsh voice. Peter's head bobs a bit and a second later, Obadiah adds quietly, "But I do."

Peter looks up at him with a small smile and gives him an appreciative nod, "Thanks. You know...maybe I do need your help. For when I run the company I mean. You said you're sticking around- for how long? You- you'd tell me if you were going away, right?"

"I'm not going anywhere kid, but if I ever plan on it, I promise you, you'll be the first one I tell," Obadiah assures him firmly, his lips twisting into a smile as he sees the boy's shoulders relax even though all he gets is a curt nod. "And Peter?"

"Yeah?" 

"Don't be mad at your father," he says innocently, with a convincing twinge of sadness. "You both just...need to find out where you stand. He's not doing this on purpose to hurt you, it's just that right now you're...out of sync with one another. He'll come around."

Peter nods slowly, because of course he knows that. He knows Tony would never do anything to hurt him on purpose, and he found himself unable to get any reaction worse than mildly annoyed at the fact that he hadn't told him the true story. Sensing the disappointment which was rolling off the boy in waves, Obadiah purses his lips. "Trust me, kiddo. Everything will go according to the big plan. And if you need anything, anything at all, you call me, at any time, understood?"

The young boy's chin raises and he considers this. Before today, he would have laughed at the thought of accepting help from Obadiah. But now he gave him a genuine smile, something he was unable to do since birth, and he nodded. "Okay. Thanks Obie."

The man smiled back and shrugged, "And maybe you both need a little vacation. You haven't had one of those in a while, have you? Just you and your dad, some father son bonding time?"

Peter thought about this and had to grudgingly admit that they hadn't gone on any type of trip together in a while, not since New York. That included just going out of the state or really anywhere past a radius of a couple cities. The "leash" had gotten shorter since New York, like they were afraid Peter would take off running the minute a door was opened. A vacation with his dad to talk about things would be nice...like the sunrise this morning but longer. Peter nods slowly, "I could...maybe...ask him about that."

"No bother," Obadiah assured him. "I'll pose the question."

Peter brightened instantly and he grinned, "Thanks!" Then he chewed on his lip and the side of his cheek. "And...um...can you also not say anything about what we talked about? I don't want my dad to know that I found out-" 

Obadiah placed a palm to stop him, and usually Peter would get pissed whenever someone cut him off, but the older man's look and voice were comforting. "Of course not, kid. It'll be our little secret." The boy was still trying to defend Tony for lying to him. Obadiah cursed internally but didn't let it show in his wry smile.

The stress that had been building in Peter's chest slowly eased and the young Stark took a deep breath, sinking back into his father's chair. "Thanks," he breathed in relief. He was trying not to be mad at Tony, because it made sense. Tony's reasoning was the same as his for why he didn't tell his father about the bullying at school. Just...on a more extreme scale, but he supposed it was the same concept. His thoughts were interrupted by a low chuckle by the doorway, one he had heard time and time again.

"Wow, did someone die?" Tony snorted as he leaned in the doorway of his office. "What's with all the frowny faces?"

Obadiah turns in his chair, putting on a bright smile and letting out a short laugh, "No reason. Just a little tired this early in the morning, that's all."

Tony smirked as he walked in, glancing at Peter, noticing his seating choice. "Getting comfy there, kiddo?" he asked.

"Yes," Peter blushed, sinking into the chair and spinning back and forth a bit with a sly grin. 

The older Stark walked over and handed a stuffed folder to Obadiah who took it gratefully. "Okay," Tony said with a slight cock of his head, "I rebooted the access program so you're in the private system now. Any system or update checks shouldn't be a problem. The firewalls may still be locked, but it's just a simple work around like what we did for the Tallahassee project." Peter watched them exchange vernacular he understand but without context it didn't make much sense. He admired it all the same. 

"Got it, thank you Tony. Always good doing business with you," Obadiah joked as he set the folder down on the chair next to him. 

Tony looked back and forth between the man and the boy and raised an eyebrow, "Good convo? I wasn't gone too long was I?"

"Nah," Peter shook is head, giving Obadiah a curt nod. 

That's when Tony saw the coffee and he frowned at Peter who was about to give a guilty smile before the man sitting in the chair cut in, "That's mine, Tony. Don't go getting mad at the kid. You didn't offer me any so I had to make my own." He got up from his seat and walked over, taking a sip of the steaming coffee that had been waiting on the ledge. When Tony wasn't looking, Obadiah gave Peter a knowing smile. 

The older Stark put up his hands in defense, "Alright, I take it back. My mistake. I just didn't want him bouncing off the walls with something sharp in his hands in the lab." He nods his head for the hallway with a wink, "Pete, go get the lab ready, I'll be there in a sec."

"Okay," Peter said happily, spinning once in his chair before he leapt to his feet and sprinted out of the room with a quick wave to Obadiah, his father's hand ruffling his curls as he passed him. 

Obadiah set down the coffee and smiled at Tony who sank down in one of the chairs and smirked, rubbing his hands along his knees. "What nonsense did you fill my kid's head with?" he teased.

"Just the usual," Obadiah responded, adding to the joke all in good fun. "Tried to give him some words of wisdom," he chuckled lightly, waving his hand. "For when you're not around to guide him."

Tony frowned and tried to keep up the smile as he asked suspiciously, "What do you mean for when I'm not around?" He turns to his friend and his arms slowly cross. 

Obadiah sipped his coffee and nearly snorted into it, as if it was obvious. He gave the man a look, "Telling him you're always going to be there? Come on," he spreads his hands and tisks. "Bad move, Tony."

"Excuse me?" Tony's voice was deadly serious, as were his eyes. Every muscle in his body tensed. The tone of the room shifted dramatically, and an unsettling feeling condensed into a thick blanket.

Obadiah looked up at him, recognizing the tone he had heard time and time before. He sighs with impatience and waves his hand to the hallway Peter had run down, "How do you think the kid is gonna react when he needs you and you can't be there for him? Because that's what's gonna happen when he grows up. That's what growing up all about."

"That was the topic of discussion while I was fixing the server for you?" Tony demanded, scoffing in disbelief. He tosses the papers he had lifted to the side. "You're going behind my back to my son? What, next did you tell him I'd abandon him?"

"Oh, Tony-" the older man scoffed, his eyes crinkling.

Tony moved his head to maintain eye contact with him, snapping, "I wouldn't be surprised at this point-" the anger got the better of him and he shouted, "What the _hell_ Obadiah?"

The man turned and shrugged like it was no big deal, "He asked about growing up, I told him about it. The good and the _bad_ \- which you are doing a great job at keeping him in the dark about by the way," he lifts his coffee cup towards him in mock praise. 

"Don't tell me how to raise my son," Tony said dangerously, getting up from his chair, his eyes flashing with warning. He crossed the room in a stride, because Tony wouldn't hesitate even for a second if someone posed a threat to his boy, even if it was a friend. 

"He brought it up," Obadiah said innocently, leaning against the counter and sipping on his coffee. He waited for the reaction, which was catalyzed by Tony stopping short halfway into a next step. He nearly stumbled and his mouth fell open in confusion and shock. 

"He- he what?" Tony said much quieter, his eyes losing their flare as they flicked to the hallway. Hurt. Guilty. Curious. Like his son. 

"Peter _wants_ to grow up. And through your fatherly ways of protecting him and trying to keep him a little kid," Obadiah explained, moving his arm around sluggishly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, "he's maturing faster than he would if you just let him be. You can't beat him, so join him. Let him in on what the hero business is really about." He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"And I don't mean just the 'it's a big _responsibility'_ , the 'it's more than just killing bad guys', or the talk you had on the balcony watching the sunrise together," he spat, pointing to the open window. Tony's jaw clenched furiously at that comment and if this hadn't been the man who had helped him get through the early stages of his life, he would have socked him in the face.

"Careful, Obie," Tony said quietly, speaking through his teeth. The man was walking on some thin ice. Insulting him was one thing; everyone did it all the time. But insulting Peter was another, let alone their relationship, and it put him on instant alert. 

"Notice how there's no sarcasm being thrown my way?" Obadiah raised an eyebrow with a slight nod. 

Tony glanced up with a painful smirk and hissed out, "Tell the screenwriter, maybe they're writing me out of character-" 

"Or maybe you can't make a joke because you know I'm right," Obadiah hissed, and Tony looked to the side, chewing his cheek as his nostrils flared. He hated how much of his old tricks the man knew...he guesses that's what he gets for having him in so much of his life. 

"What would you want me to say, Obadiah?" he hissed, stepping up to him, squaring off. He narrowed his eyes in challenge, giving a rude shrug. "It's like showing a nine year old _Alien_. You can do it, you can ignore the R rating and walk them right into the theater because you probably own the damn place anyway. You sit your kid down in the front row, he'll watch it," Tony drawls furiously with a sharp nod and fiery eyes, thick and glossed with memory. "He won't cry because you told him he's not allowed to. But then when he goes home he thinks some chestburster is gonna come out of his stomach. Point being, I have experience in this area. So I don't. Want to scar. My Kid. Obadiah."

Obadiah shook his head with a small snarl, "In your efforts to rid yourself of everything Howard taught you, you've made yourself weak. Peter too."

"I said _careful,_ Stane," Tony swore. He used his last name, figuring that would be similar to a warning shot, but it did no such thing. 

"You need to tell him that you hate what you see in the mirror sometimes. You need to tell him about the nightmares, the tough choices, the dangers of it all, the _bad_ Tony, that you like pretending doesn't exist," Obadiah says angrily, and the truth his so bright in his eyes that it scares him. And it makes him not put out his palm for a gauntlet to come wrapping around his fingers so he can blast the man in the chest. 

"He's experienced it first hand," Tony snarled, moving closer. He's referencing New York, and Obadiah knows that. "He's seen enough."

" _Good thing_ New York happened, but he's still just as blind as he was before. He wants to be you because he doesn't know you!" Obadiah laughed with dry humor. "Tony, for gosh sakes, open your eyes and look at your son!"

Tony shoved him backward at that, the coffee sloshing onto the man's wrist, a hiss coming from Obadiah's lips as he faced the approaching Stark. "Don't-" Tony barked, shoving his finger into his face. "Don't tell me to-" he composes himself and his eyes are burning as he meets his older friend's gaze. "You think you know him better than me?"

"No," Obadiah shook his head, and Tony eased back on his heels cautiously, glaring at the man in front of him. "No, of course not," he assured him, setting down his cup and wiping the drops of the coffee off of his hand. "I'm simply offering an outside view of a boy so excited to be walking in the footsteps of something he knows nothing about. Tony, you're asking the poor kid to sign away his life, and he is, in fact, he's taking the pen, but he hasn't even read the terms."

"He's just a kid-" Tony whispers quietly, his eyes stinging as he looks up, his head shaking slowly. Inside of his chest his heart was pounding despite being clenched by a cold fist. His lungs felt like they were closing in on him, like his entire world was being threatened. He shifts his feet and repeats it in a broken voice he doesn't display publically, "Obadiah, he's just a kid-"

"But he's not!" The man says it with such volume and genuineness that Tony's head snaps up. Obadiah's face is sad as he admits, "He has your eyes." Tony knew what he meant by that and he's painfully reminded of the conversation he had with Pepper by the fire. Or of the moment he saw that light flicker out, and God he wished he could bring it back.

"He stopped being a kid a while ago," Obadiah says sadly. "He may still sneak coffee," he gestures to the mug with a smirk, "or talk in Star Wars quotes, and drown his pancakes in syrup, but he's also a Stark."

"You saying he's cursed?" Tony swore in venom, but he couldn't muster the same ferocity in his gaze because he had even accused himself of the same thing. 

"No, I'm saying he doesn't have a normal life, and you treating him like he does, and like this is some job he's just gonna inherit and be fine with, is going to tear the two of you apart," Obadiah insists. He lowers his voice out of respect, one hand fitting on his hip, the other raised slightly in the direction of the boy that had ran out a couple minutes ago. "He's lost his childhood, Tony, you need to see that," he urges his friend. 

Tony's lips press firmly together and he forces them to curl into a smile as he bites the inside of his cheek and laughs out, "No. No, you're wrong-" Tony sniffs as he straightens his shirt and raises his chin. He starts for the door but Obadiah cuts in front of him, and he rocks back on his heels, keeping his back straight. Obadiah's palm is weakly out, like he has one more thing to say. 

"Tony he's like you," Obadiah says firmly, eyes wide and pained. "He wants more. For the same reason why you recreated that suit after you got back from Afghanistan. You felt the adrenaline rush, you felt the fear, you felt the shock, and you _liked_ it. You craved it," he insisted firmly, putting his hands on Tony's shoulders. The man was shaking, staring at him as if he wanted him to take back everything he had said because he knew it was true.

Obadiah squeezed his shoulders tightly, nearly bruising them, "Like it or not, Tony, Peter is you. You know it. Pepper knows it. I know it. _Peter_ knows it. It's time you really start to teach your son. Because there's not gonna be a good time until it's too late."

"He won't want it," Tony cries out, wrenching his shoulder from the man's grasp as he staggers backward and leans against the desk. "Obie, he won't want it."

"You don't know that," Obadiah says firmly. 

"I wouldn't."

Silence. Obadiah straightens. The words are out faster then Tony can wrestle them back in. The look on his face is broken and his chin dips to his chest.

"I-" the voice wobbles and the room waits for more. "I wouldn't want it...for him," Tony finishes, lifting his hand weakly before it flops back down to his side. " _I've_ accepted my role in this messed up world. I've taken on the burden and I wouldn't trade that for anything because it brought me here." He looks up and shakes his head, motioning for the door with a laugh that dares to glimpse the edge of hope, something that had been absent for the last two conversations.

"But Peter has a chance to have a better life, to not have all the baggage that comes with the job. I want that for him. I will make that happen for him, so _help me God."_ His voice is a low snarl, and he's shaking lightly as he stands, hands clenching the sides of the chair. "Or I will die trying," Tony insists violently, walking over to Obadiah who looks him up and down, the Stark radiating confidence he hadn't had a second ago. He wasn't drawing strength from within, no, the broken man leaning against the table had none. This came from the boy with the curly hair and goofy smile in the lab somewhere downstairs. 

"I'm not telling him about the bad because I want to get rid of it before he has to see it. So that he never has to go through what I went through and I will do whatever it takes so that's possible," he swears, unblinking, unmoving, just staring. Not even the wind makes a sound and the window is open, papers previously rustled now still.

" _That's_ the goal," Tony says through his teeth, jaw aching from how hard he had clenched it. His hand moves and clenches Obadiah on the shoulder, the older man's head moving slightly to the side at the strong grip. Tony smiles fakley, eyebrow raising, "So now you know the plan. You didn't before, which means I'll let this little conversation slide. I'm that generous. People should make a building with my name on it," he says sarcastically. 

Obadiah tenses beneath the grip as Tony gets in his face. "But next time?" He doesn't finish the threat, and that's honestly more intimidating. "So you either get on board, or get the _hell_ off. You got that?"

His gaze is deadly serious. He waits, expectantly, about to crack another joke because anger has won over any indecisiveness or fear. 

Obadiah nods slowly and clasps his arm in reassurance. "I'm on board," he says quietly with a nod, eyelids fluttering downward in respect and Tony nods, satisfied, letting color return to his white knuckles as he releases him with a sharp pat and a genuine, yet somehow cold and still dangerous, smile. Obadiah moves past the man to grab the folder and finish off his coffee. Tony motions for him to leave the cup, crossing his arms by the door as he watches his friend gather his things. 

"Tony, I'm sorry," Obadiah says sincerely when he turns, painted with a look of guilt. "You know I care about you," he insists. "And Peter," he adds. 

"I know," Tony nods curtly. "Which is why you're not blasted through a wall right now. You're welcome. I'd kill for a Nobel Peace Prize right about now."

"How ironic," Obadiah smirks and so does Tony and the two men exchange a nod. The older one steps forward and his hand catches the door as he walks out, turning around with slight hesitation given the turning of the tables a minute ago. He speaks with minor apprehensiveness, "Might I...suggest? You and Peter have more of those talks? They can be on whatever you see fit, but he's going to keep asking until you give in."

"So what, I just give him what he wants?" Tony snorts. "I watch Super Nanny."

Obadiah laughs in return, a low and warm chuckle, and he spreads his arms in defeat, pointing out, "He'll stop asking." Tony smiles and his head falls slightly as he crosses his arms and leans against the wall. Obadiah's voice and stare sober up and he speaks firmly, "He needs you, Tony. And you and I both know that although I overstepped, there was some truth in what I said. A vacation would do you both good. You need a break. The world will be okay for a week."

"Good to know I won't be missed," Tony says with a slight smile before he rolls his eyes. "I'll think about it," he says in assurance, letting out a sigh and using his palm to tousle with his hair, admitting wissfully, "A trip would be nice. Just me and the kid..."

"A little birdie told me Peter might be fond of it as well," Obadiah adds with a wink and Tony smirks. Then the older man raps his knuckles on the door and heads down the hallway, Tony giving him a small bob of his head in return.

"Thank you, Obie."

As Obadiah turns the corner, his lip curls and his gaze darkens. The smile is anything but kind as he calls over his shoulder in a convincing voice, "You're welcome, Tony."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ughhhh we ahte him dont we  
> So yeah they were supposed to be short convos and we were supposed to move right along with the plot but my mind decided NO the entire chapter would be the two convos so hey we wont rush well take it slow and we will just chill in this plot section for a bit haha  
> Sorry Peter and Tony were seperate- i tried to make them protective so that there was some content. Hopefully it was as heart wrenching and tense as I pictured it in my mind PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS having them be actual father and son is out of my comfort zone so i love talking w you guys and seeing how im doing ad stuff <3 <3 you all are so supportive it means the world!! ANYWAY next one (and i know i sad this before but i think i mean it next time) NEXT ONE is gonna be where the plot starts to pick up so strap in because its gonna be a bumpy ride  
> We got Peter and Tony content more from everyone fav character: Obadiah *throw up* anddddddd yeah lots of fun. So hang in there, stay safe out there, stay healthy, hang in there with school and just life in general, anddddddd i will see you all ASAP hopefully i can get the next chap out in 5 days instead of 6? I think this was 6? idk time is weird :)))  
> Stay tuned everyone, if you read these notes and are still with me gosh i dont deserve u XD theyre chaotic i apologize  
> I love you all 3000 <3 <3


	10. Oh I Just Can't Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LOVELY READERSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS  
> This is.....this is 1 am coffee writing and im in love with it i hope you are too we've honestly got a bit of everything this chapter but I won't say too much because it will spoil but here we are ramping uppppp  
> Big thank you to everyone who is reading and commenting and leaving kudos you guys make my freaking DAY and it means the world to know you all are enjoying this :))))  
> I hope everyone is doing well too! Staying safe saying healthy all that good stuff during these crazy times <3  
> I got my coffee back so i am happy im on my second cup which will hopefully get me through my AP science class teehee  
> ALSO just a friendly reminder that we all need to give a round of applause to the genius behind this masterpiece Stiltsrosko my friend i hope i am doing ur idea justice and readers they deserve all the credit for this amazing plot. I am following a rough skeleton and some of the events in this chapter were NOT INCLUDED but i was told to take liberty and this is what my brain came up with so lets hope i dont die! But definately all the credit goes to them i would not be able to do this without their brilliant mind and everything theyve put into this story <3 <3  
> ANYWAY i hope the weather is okay for yall and I hope you enjoy the chapter! Coffee is great, sleep is less great, and have an amazing day every single one of you!!!!!  
> Read on you awesome people!!! :)))))))))

"Do you have any 5's-"

"Shhhh."

"Don't shush me," MJ warned dangerously as her head snapped up, eyes fierce for a twelve year old. She and Peter were on the floor on his room playing an intense game of Go Fish and she was about to win. So of course Peter had to disrupt the game because he 'heard something'. It was around 4 am in the Stark house, many hours after the two best friends were supposed to go to sleep in their sleeping bags that they had shoved aside to make room for the array of board games they had been playing. There was a fort as well, a massive collection of draped blankets that took over half the room, made up of chairs and boxes alike. Between the son of Tony Stark and a strategical genius like MJ, this was some well constructed masterpiece. 

Inside the fort, they had talked a bit about Peter's future, because in the past two days, with Obadiah's talk, and then the talk he and Tony had in the lab afterward, he was even more excited. He would admit to no one but himself that for a second he had been scared, scared that his father had been hiding things from him, but he now realized it was because Tony was scared. Scared for him. Because he loved him. And Peter knew he would do anything to protect him, in any way that he could. Peter didn't always like that, but there wasn't much he could do about it. And as they tinkered in the lab, maybe his hurt remained and was just buried a bit, but any wariness about their relationship faded away almost instantly. 

"He said he would get more real with me," Peter said, laying on his back, staring up at the blanket ceiling, a smile on his face as he kicked a blanket away and clasped his hands behind his head.

MJ was laying down as well, in the opposite direction and she lifted her head in a pillow, asking curiously, "Like what?"

"Like the bad stuff too! Like everything that he went through that he wants me to be prepared for," Peter said firmly. 

"For the love of God, Peter, like what?" she sighs in exasperation; her best friend didn't answer her question. 

Peter lets his arms flop as he tries to remember the specifics of the speech he had been given that eased his thoughts on everything Obadiah had made him worry about. "I don't know MJ!" he splutters, resting his arms on his chest. "Like the hard choices! The bad things you have to do for something good to happen. What it's like to be a hero."

"Oh," MJ nods, and a smile plays at her lips at her best friend's excitement. "Nice."

"Yeah," Peter agrees. He closes his eyes and whispers happily, "I can't wait to be a hero. Dad says it's not all glamorous, and I believe him. But I still can't wait," he decides with a content exhale. Then he gives a happy hum, "No one to treat me like a kid all the time. No one saying do this, do that."

"No one telling you where to be, or what not to do," MJ adds with a nod. "No adults in charge."

"I can be my own boss," Peter agrees, eyes wide as he stares up, as if towards his future that is still bright despite the precautions his father had introduced him to. "What if I'm your boss," he snickers, sitting up on his elbows to look at his best friend. 

Wrong call. MJ immediately lunges and tackles him and they tussle quickly before she ultimately catches him in a headlock with a resounding thump. "Ha. Pinned ya," she says in triumph. 

"Hey," Peter groans, annoyed as he twists. "Let me up."

MJ loosens her arm and starts to move back to her spot before Peter jumps at her again. They struggle and roll, knocking into the edge of the fort, Peter immediately stilling even as she twists his arm. "Pinned ya again-" MJ laughs.

"Don't move!" he warns, pointing. "We're by the weak end. One hit and it all comes down," he whispers nervously. MJ knows the gravity of the situation and Peter raises his free hand. "Truce?" he asks hopefully. She sighs but agrees, clasping his hand and shaking before they carefully untangle themselves, making note of where they move so they don't trigger a collapse of the fort. Slowly backing up, they inch to their seats and then sit back down. 

"So head of Stark Industries, huh?" she says in deep thought, looking over at her best friend.

"Yeah," Peter sighs, bobbing his head against the pillow. "Can't wait."

"Can't wait," she repeats with a small smile. 

That had been when they were allies. Now they were enemies; the game of Go Fish was a ruthless and unforgiving one, and MJ was in the lead on their third round, the Championship, since they had traded wins in the first two. But now Peter interrupted and expected her to drop everything and listen when she was this close to victory, and he had the nerve to shush her too-

"No, shhh!" Peter said again, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he turned towards the door, ears straining. He knew he heard something. Peter knew every inch and every sound that this house made, and he had definitely heard something out of place. 

He distractedly set down his cards face up and MJ grinned triumphantly at his lack of hands to play. "No matches. I win," she announced, tossing her hair over her shoulder in victory.

"Congrats, MJ," he said absentmindedly, slowly getting to his feet and creeping for the door. 

That's when she frowned. She knew her best friend, and he hated losing; he was always so competitive. If something made him walk away from a game midway, there was something wrong. She set her cards on the floor, face _down,_ and carefully eased herself up before following him. Peter put his ear to the door and she listened as well, suspicious, because at first she heard nothing.

But then...

Slow footsteps were coming up the stairs at the end of the hallway, they could tell by the creaking of the middle three steps. No one had ever been awake at this hour before, let alone use that staircase. MJ quickly reached and clicked the lamp off, shrouding them in darkness before she returned to Peter's side.

The footsteps met the hallway and walked slowly forward, passing their room as the two kids held their breath. At first they had been worried it was one of the Stark's to make sure the light was off and that they were asleep. But then it got a million times worse. The person let out a small gruff cough and Peter's brow instantly furrowed. That wasn't his father, Happy, Rhodey, or Obadiah. So who the hell was it? Chills ran down his spine as he turned to his best friend.

MJ was thinking the same thing and Peter instantly reached for the doorknob but she grabbed his arm and shook her head. A silent message: _not yet_. Peter's sometimes rash decisions were countered by MJ's calculated ones...it's what made them work so well together. So when the footsteps faded, that's when they slowly pulled the door open and peaked their heads out, seeing whoever it was round the corner of the hallway, his form silhouetted by the window at the end, the light from the moon just barely squeezing in. 

"Intruder," Peter hissed back to MJ. She nodded in agreement and they both slipped out into the hall, avoiding the spots of the floor that groaned beneath weight. Shouldering the wall, they peaked around the corner, seeing whoever it was walk down the steps to the first level. Peter moved back to face front and they pressed their backs against the wall, the house empty and quiet except for whoever was roaming around. Peter turned to MJ and whispered nervously, "What do we do?"

He locked eyes with his best friend.

Five minutes later, they're in the second floor kitchen that was smaller but had a few of the essentials- a frying pan and cooking oil. The lab was blocked because whoever had broken in was between them and the hallway to get there. So blasters weren't an option. But old fashion defense was. MJ holds out her hand and states simply, "I want the oil. It's the part that can't get screwed up, so that job goes to me."

"What, you think I'm gonna screw it up?" Peter sniffs, rethinking his original wish to hold the frying pan. Now he'd just take the oil out of spite.

"Can you promise me you won't?" MJ raises an eyebrow, arm still extended.

"You think I'll screw it up!" Peter gasps in hurt, a little too loudly, earning a small flick from MJ who is still waiting for the promise. There's silence, and competing stares which results in Peter sighing and hands over the olive oil.

MJ gives him a cocky smile and he rolls his eyes, shooting her a look before tossing his head over his shoulder in the direction of where they had seen the intruder go out of sight. It was near the living room by the main kitchen once you walk down the stairs, so they had to avoid making any noise so they could get to the lower level. They first peak over the railing, making sure they're path is clear before they sneak down the steps.

Walking slowly, side by side, each gripping their weapon, they tiptoe through the dark hallways, sticking to the shadows until they get close enough to hear voices. Both kids eyes' widen. Peter's heartbeat starts to get faster, and he swallows and grips the frying pain harder, feeling the rough handle digging into his palm. MJ is at his side, equally worried, her eyes narrowed as they get into the kitchen and stop, chests tight. 

"Okay, ready?" he whispers with a small shiver, giving her a nod before he backtracks and gets behind the door, holding the pan to his chest, knuckles white. 

MJ bobs her head back and creeps forward, grabbing one of the magnets off the fridge. She pours the oil onto the floor and spreads it out a bit in the spot where the kitchen window doesn't reach so it's not visible to someone walking in. Then she tosses the magnet against the counter and sprints the minute it leaves her hand, sliding behind the island, pressing her back up against it as Peter ducks out of sight. 

The voices stop as the magnet clatters, making a loud clatter until it spins and eases to a stop. The silence is deafening, so much so that the boy in hiding considers clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his breathing. The room seems to drop ten degrees as Peter waits, peaking through the crack, staring at the dark kitchen. He's worried that whoever is approaching can hear his heart pounding too because he can, and there's a roaring in his ears as he steadies himself. Peter had never been a fan of horror movies, and now it was like he was in one.

MJ is waiting calmly, head turned to the side, foot out and ready from behind the island. The young Stark clenches his jaw as someone comes around the corner, big and tall, side profile visible as he turns his head once he stands in the entrance to the kitchen. The intruder walks forward confidently, MJ still hidden from his view, eyes wide...waiting. 

Peter bends his knees as he gets closer and watches him step right in the oil, sliding forward a couple steps, off balance with a low shout, grabbing the edge of the island counter and fridge handle to try and catch himself. But that's when MJ launches her foot out just as Peter emerges from behind the door and with his best friend's kick to the intruder's ankle, he's distracted and already falling backward as Peter swings with the frying pan. 

It makes contact with a loud _CLANG_ and Peter staggers from the force, watching the man hit the ground, unconscious. Peter's breathing hard and he grins at MJ who jumps to her feet and admires their handy work. 

"It worked!" he hisses happily, congratulating their victory as they stare at the heap of the man they had taken down. "I'm a genius."

"Hey genius, it was my idea," MJ hits his shoulder with a scowl. 

"Yeah, but I pulled it off," he grins cockily. 

"With me!" MJ gives him a look of disbelief, daring him to contradict her one more time. 

"Oh yeah," Peter says with a small giggle, swinging the frying pan on his finger, nearly dropping it. And as he staggers- the kitchen light turns on. Both Peter and MJ scream and scramble back, the young Stark holding up the frying pan, MJ grabbing one of the ladles on the counter because that was a better defense than cooking oil. In the midst of their celebration, they had forgotten there were more voices around the corner. The worst part was he's now realizing he recognized them.

"What the _hell_ is going on?"

Out of all the things that happened to Peter, he marks this down as one of the weirdest. He's staring at the Avengers...in pajamas. All staring back at them. 

"Ms. Natasha?" Peter demands in a sort of squeak that he wished MJ didn't hear. The good news is his best friend looks as shocked as he is. Black Widow's red hair is in a loose braid over her shoulder, eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and amusement. Clint is there too, in Power Ranger pants, scratching his bed head and staring, his palm stilling in his dirty blond hair. Bruce pushes his glasses further up on his nose and clears his throat. Wait so the only one missing was- 

"Shit," Peter cussed simply, eyes widening as he groaned and slowly lowered his gaze. He looked down and saw an unconscious Steve Rogers slumped on the ground, the man's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he lays in a very uncomfortable position.

He truly felt like a dead man walking and Peter groaned, "My dad's gonna _kill_ me."

The Avengers carried Steve to the couch and MJ and Peter were about to go get Tony but all the commotion and screaming had obviously gotten his parents up anyway. He heard them running down the stairs and MJ hissed to him, "It was your plan."

"You helped!" He whispered back harshly.

"Oh _now_ you want to share the credit," MJ rolled her eyes dramatically. "You're the one holding the frying pan!"

"Peter! Pete, are you okay? We heard screaming- what-" Tony skidded into the kitchen, Pepper behind him, both of them in their pajama's as well, looking frazzled. His father had a gauntlet wrapped around his palm and he slowly lowered it, rubbing his eye to probably rid it of sleep since it was so late. "Hey guys," he greeted the Avengers casually, figuring they weren't part of the problem. Wait...he _knew_ they were coming- 

"You knew they were coming?" Peter voiced his thoughts with a splutter of disbelief, lifting his hands at his sides, his parents frowning at the frying pan he was still holding. He should have let go of it a long time ago, he was realizing that now. He gulps and lets it fall to the floor, clumsily kicking it away with his foot. 

"Yeah, kiddo," Tony started smiling slowly, still unsure what all the screaming and yelling had been about. "They called after you guys went to bed, just needed to crash here for a bit, there's a meeting coming up with Ross-"

"We weren't asleep yet!" Peter shouted in exasperation, MJ facepalming behind him at everything he's just letting slip. "You should have told me!"

Tony is a little surprised at the horrified tone his kid is using and he starts to chuckle nervously, "Sorry I didn't tell you? I guess?" he says in confusion, unsure why it mattered. "Why- why is it such a big deal? You'd see them in the morning. Or right now."

"Because maybe then I wouldn't have thought Mr. Rogers was an intruder and I wouldn't have followed him downstairs and I wouldn't have hit him over the head with a frying pan and knocked him out!" he exclaimed in frustration, taking a big gulp of air as everyone stared. Then he added quickly, "MJ helped. Ow!" He rubbed his sore rib that had taken a blow from her elbow. 

"And then Peter cussed," MJ said triumphantly and her best friend whirled on her in disbelief, eyes widening as she exposed him. She shrugged, "You rat me out I rat you out. An eye for an eye, bucko."

Tony and Pepper's gaze lifted and maneuvered around the children's heads, eyes landing on Steve who was not in fact sleeping, but apparently unconscious behind them on the couch. 

Peter lowers his head in shame and embarrassment, cheeks flushed, ears burning, and he waits for his father's stern voice. But instead he hears a snicker. And then, when it stays constant, he swipes his eyes to the side and sees Romanoff pursing her lips in the direction of his dad, putting a hand over her mouth to hide a smile. Clint snorts and looks away, mouth twisting up as well. Bruce is rubbing his palm over his chin and nodding, lip curling at one end as he ducks his head down. Peter finally looks up and sees Tony's shoulder's shaking as he tries to hold a laugh behind lips that are firmly pressed together. 

Peter sees the angry look come from his mother but now it's turned towards his dad who she hits on the shoulder with a gasp of disbelief, "Tony!"

Tony snorts and his voice is about an octave higher than usual, "Our son- took out Captain America with a- with a damn frying pan."

Pepper keeps it together for the sake of everyone and glares at him, "It's not funny."

"Oh come on, Pepp, it's freaking hilarious," he laughs. By now Tony has long past a small snicker and there's no stopping him, putting his hand against the wall as if he's afraid he'll tip over. "He freaking Rapunzel-ed him," Tony hoots and Clint lets out a torrent of coughing, doubling over and turning away to compose himself. Tony wipes his eyes and chuckles, not even phased by the second hit to his arm from Pepper who is furious with him. The Avengers are all busting up as well. Peter and MJ deem it safe to giggle too, the girl behind him chuckling quietly. She and Peter exchange looks.

"Come on," Natasha says, clearing her throat as she desperately tries to hide a smile. "He's not even awake to defend himself-" she gets choked up and has to stop, Pepper giving her a look that clearly says, _you too_?

"Tony," Pepper says sharply, but there's a hint of a smile. Her husband desperately composes himself as much as he can, lip still wavering, nostrils flaring as she sucks in air. She is having a hard time looking at him without smiling as she sees the sparkle in his eyes. "As amusing as this is, our son did just commit assault. Are you going to put aside the fact that you wish you had been the one to hit Steve over the head and discipline him? Or do I have to be the bad guy?" 

She raises her eyebrow and Tony turns to Peter who smirks slightly but wrestles it down in case this is an actual punishment he's in for. Tony gives him a look as he approaches him and asks calmly, "Peter?" He knew that voice. So did Pepper, who looked satisfied that at least some justice would be done for the super solider on the couch.

"Yeah?" the boy says quietly, swallowing painfully as he waits agonizing seconds. He nervously pushes his glasses up and rocks on his heels. 

"I want you to promise me you'll never hit Steve in the head again with a frying pan," Tony says as seriously as he can, a smile forming on his lips. The entire room looses it and Pepper groans, putting her head in her hand, Peter and Tony grinning at each other. 

"Tony," Pepper laughs lightly; unable to keep a straight face anymore. 

The older Stark winks at his son before straightening and turning and kissing his wife, "What?" he asks innocently as she ducks her head into his shoulder in defeat. "Steve will be fine," he waves towards his friend and she laughs, giving up at this point. 

"Entire alien army," Clint shakes his head, holding his aching sides. "And Cap gets taken out by two twelve year olds with kitchen appliances."

"Bruce, is Steve gonna be okay?" Pepper asks with a roll of her eyes, looking towards Dr. Banner, Tony's arm loose around her shoulder. 

The man nods, taking off his glasses and motioning with them, "He's got a thick skull. Maybe an headache for a day- nothing an Advil won't fix."

This seems to satisfy Pepper who announces that they can't go back to bed after all this commotion so they all decide to make a midnight snack. "Can we watch Star Wars?" Peter dares to bring up, despite the current state of his track record. 

Of course, Tony makes a joke out of it, "Sorry kiddo, in order to be able to suggest a movie the one requirement is you can't have hit anyone over the head with any type of pan in the past ten minutes." Peter knows this isn't going away any time soon, but he's sort of okay with that, as long as he and Steve come to an understanding. He always had an interesting relationship with Cap, and as unique as it was, he didn't want to ruin it. Tony announces that they will still watch Star Wars because the general consensus is that that is a liked proposition. MJ says she'll stay behind with Clint, who looks a little scared of that idea, in order to try and explain what happened if Steve wakes up. 

The ultimate decision for food is pancakes, despite the current hour, because nothing is out of the question in the Stark household. Tony and Peter walk to get utensils and napkins while Bruce and Nat start making pancakes, Pepper going to get the eggs from the fridge and help. 

"So Power Rangers," MJ stares at Clint with narrowed eyes. She figures that is enough to start a conversation. 

The man shifts in his position, gulping slowly and nodding. "Yep," he says, shooting Natasha a look of absolute fear. She waved at him and then poured a glass of orange juice for herself, wandering into the kitchen and handing Bruce a bowl. 

"Nice," MJ approves. Clint thinks the interrogation is over. It's not. "Who's your favorite?"

"The blue one," he squeaks out. 

MJ nods in satisfaction as she pulls her legs up to sit cross crossed on the chair she had settled in. "Billy. Good choice."

"Thanks. So what do you do in your free time, Michelle?" he asks, desperate for small talk. 

"Apparently I help my best friend hit people over the head with frying pans," she sighs in dismay, but her expression is completely serious. 

Clint laughs nervously before he practically falls out of the chair and bolts for the kitchen. MJ shrugs and grabs one of the books off of the center of the table on Molecular Energy. Although she doesn't understand all of it just yet, there's enough interesting to keep reading. A couple pages later, she's so involved in the book it's a wonder she hears the man in front of her. 

"What the hell-" That's Steve, blinking and groaning from on the couch as he clutches his head, twisting around in confusion. His headache is massive and the lights make him squint as he rubs his temples with a grumble of pain, turning over.

MJ doesn't look up, even after Steve rolls far enough that he slides off the edge. The man lands on his side on the floor with a groan, and MJ lowers her book to stare at him on the ground. Steve winces and gets to his hands and knees, sitting up before mumbling, "MJ? What-"

"Peter hit you over the head with a frying pan," she said simply. Then she gave him a nod of satisfaction, because that did just explain everything. She returns to her book but then adds, "He says sorry," before she refocuses on molecular energy structure. 

"G-got it. I guess. Not really. It's fine." Cap stares before he licks his lips and nods, looking around to get his bearings before he states, "Good to see you, MJ."

"You too," she agrees, trying to make sense of a diagram on the left hand of the page, eyes narrowing in concentration. 

"Are you actually reading that?" he asks, scratching his head. When she lowers the tip of the book to flick her gaze to him he shrugs, his back against the couch as he sits on the floor. "I don't know, I was just thinking like...you might read Harry Potter or something, not Molecular Energy."

She looks up and cocks her head, "Why? Because I'm a naive young girl and we should be obsessed with a magical made up land that lacks representation that would have been exposed almost immediately since our government would never allow it, filled with character redemption that blatantly disregards acts that are completely inexcusable?" She doesn't wait; that would be petty. Instead she goes back to her book.

Steve blinks. He shakes his head with a small smile, "Not what I meant. And got it," he waves his hand, chuckling. "No Harry Potter."

"No, I love Harry Potter, it's one of the best series to ever be written," she says simply, not bringing her eyes from the book. "Despite it's obvious flaws," she adds as she turns the page, Steve watching her in awe.

"Always good talking with you, MJ," he says sincerely, shaking his head in wonder at the girl in front of him. "Enjoy your book."

"Likewise," she says, and offers him a small nod of gratitude. "Do you like Snape?" she asks suspiciously. 

"Hate that guy," he says, hoping that was the right answer. 

MJ bobs her head firmly and announces. "Good." 

Tony and Peter, on the other hand, are still snickering as they get napkins and utensils from the drawer of the delicate cabinet in the dining room. He reaches over and ruffles his son's hair with a grin, letting out a laugh, "How hard did you hit him? I can't believe you did that."

"Stop," Peter begs with a groan, but he knows this joke will be running. His cheeks are beginning to turn that red color again and he resists the urge to cover them with his hands. "Steve is gonna hate me!" he exclaims. 

Tony shakes his head with a snort. "He won't hate you," he assures him firmly before he cracks a smile. "But on another note, your mother is right, please don't make this a habit." And that was as far as the discipline went, because Peter was a good kid. They had the kind of relationship that didn't need yelling, or a punishment, or a time out corner. They just had an understanding, and a strong bond of trust. 

"So are you and MJ gonna go on murder spree dates?" Tony asks casually. 

Peter's head snaps over and he fumbles with the forks he was holding, some of them clattering back into the container. "What?" he demands instantly, face screwed up into a suspicious frown as he demands with his gaze to know what his father was getting at. 

"Oh, just look at you two. Little seeds of romance blossoming...working together to knock people unconscious," his dad says with a sly grin, cocking his head a bit as he wiggles his eyebrows

"Dad! Yuck," Peter says firmly in pure horror. 

"Ew," MJ calls loudly from her spot in her chair. Neither Stark seems phased by the fact that she can hear them or that she's listening in. 

"I don't like her like that," Peter makes a face and scrunches up his nose. "She's my friend!" 

"Yeah, that would be weird," MJ said from her seat and Tony and Peter turn to look at her, now noticing Steve is sitting up on the couch. Peter gulps and gives him a small, apologetic wave, and the man slowly waves back, giving Tony a nod, still confused as hell. He rubs his head and in question and Peter mouths 'Sorry' with a wince. 

"He'll be fine," Tony shrugs, putting a hand on his son's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "By the way, kiddo, we've got to go to the lab today, okay?"

"Really!" Peter grins, internally fist pumping. "Why?" he asks suspiciously, because usually lab trips were planned. At least the lab his father was talking about. He went in the normal lab with him every day, but in this instance the inflection of his words indicated it was the lab that held the Iron Man suits. 

"Multiple reasons," Tony promises before he winks. "Which I will explain later. Right now it's Star Wars time and I'm thinking Empire Strikes Back, how does that sound?"

"Good to me, it sounds," Peter lowers his voice and grins. 

Tony shakes his head as he closes the utensil drawer. "That was a horrible yoda," he snorts and Peter laughs. He guides him with a hand on his shoulder, motioning for the kitchen. "Okay, let's get back, your mom's gonna think we fell into the drawer or something."

They all sink down on the couch with pancakes a while later, which seems to do the trick for Cap who is back to his old self halfway through the movie, still a little fuzzy on what happened.

"It's really not that hard, Steve," Clint groans in dismay. 

"Peter, maybe you should hit him across the head again, I think you knocked a few screws loose," Natasha teases, moving her pancakes around with her fork to lather them in syrup. She grins as she puts the fork to her mouth.

Tony snorts, "Star Spangled Idiot always been like this, I've tried to tell you guys. There's really no difference whatsoever." Steve shoots him a look and then quietly asks Pepper for an ice pack, Tony booing beneath his cupped hand to make it louder. "Milking it, milking it-" he accuses him in singsong.

"Put on the suit," Cap challenges with a grin and Tony snickers, everyone settling down as John William's theme comes blaring through the surround sound speakers. Star Wars unites and calms even the worst of foes, and Peter is leaning against Tony's side as his dad cards a hand through his curls, falling asleep even before Han Solo gets frozen in carbonite. 

The next morning- or rather just later that same day, MJ is hanging out with Bruce who is surprised at her extensive knowledge, and the rest of the group is busy. Peter's father is nowhere to be found, so that leaves only one place he would be. As he heads to the lab, the boy runs into someone as he turns the corner that led to his father's office and the lab. 

"Hey, kid. I heard I missed a lot last night," Obadiah says as he straightens his suit and sets Peter upright. 

The young Stark grins and nods sheepishly, "Yeah...that's...one way of putting it."

"I take it you're going to see your father," Obadiah smiles, his eyes crinkling. Peter begins to smirk. He knows something. He knows what Tony is going to tell him. Confirming his thoughts, the man folds his hands behind him and announces, "He has an exciting surprise for you."

Peter tests his luck with the man he was starting to become friends with, wondering if he could get the inside scoop. "What is it?" he asks casually, trying not to give himself away. 

Obadiah doesn't fall for it and he chuckles, putting his hand on the young boy's shoulder who looks deflated. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?" he asks.

Peter considers this and ultimately decides to respond with a cunning, "If you tell me, I'll still act surprised." He grins knowingly and raises an eyebrow at his plan, waiting for a response, bouncing on his heels in excitement. 

The older man lets out a gruff laugh and shakes his head, "Wow. Tony's got a sly boy on his hands."

Peter groans and shifts his stance in anticipation, pulling the puppy dog eyes as he begs, "Come on, Obadiah, you can tell me. Please?"

The pause the man takes is just to mess with him, but Peter allows himself to get his hopes up all the same. The young Stark rolls his eyes as Obadiah shakes his head slowly, the man's lip curling slightly before his face turns empathetic and he insists, "No, no, this is just for you and your dad." He raises both palms in a sort of surrendering motion. "I wouldn't want to spoil it. It's a...you know, a sort of, father- son thing. I did my piece with him, now I must give you space."

"Thanks for talking with him," Peter mentions; he never got to show his appreciation for the man that had prompted the talk he had with his father. Going up against Tony Stark was not something anyone did lightly. And he had done it for Peter. That was a lot to the young boy. "I mean it," he insists. "It cleared a lot of stuff up and I'm more ready than ever, all thanks to you."

The man's look steels, and Peter's going to guess the reason is pride. "Well that was the whole point," Obadiah says, but his jaw is clenched more than usual. Before Peter can get back any of the suspicions he had, he feels a warm pat on his shoulder and the gleam in the man's eye is back. Then Obadiah waves his hand down the hallway and steps aside as he urges, "Now go get him. He's waiting for you."

Peter grins and starts forward before he immediately stops in his tracks, turning around to call, "Hey Obie?" The man looks over his shoulder at his voice and Peter asks suspiciously, "Will I like the surprise?"

The older man's laugh echoes in the long hallway and he nods, "Oh, Peter...it's to die for."

Peter grins and sprints the rest of the way, down the hallways, sliding down the railing of the steps since it was faster than waiting for the elevator, racing to the lab door and punching in the code. 

_"Hello, young sir."_ The A.I. signals his entrance.

"Hi, Jarvis," he greets happily, pushing through the minute it opens with a hiss, maneuvering around tables and chairs at expert speed before he finally gets to the back door and enters the lab. Tony looks up at the commotion from where he's welding something together and he laughs beneath the helmet. Yanking the massive face shield off, he tosses it to the side and turns off the fire, setting it down. 

"You okay there, bud?" he asks, wiping his hands as Peter jumps down the steps and leans to the table, out of breath.

"Yeah," Peter gasps, straightening and swallowing as he catches his breath. "What are we doing? What's the surprise?"

Tony smiles and lowers his head with a chuckle, walking forward and shoving his hands in his pockets. He motions forward. "Your right thumb is covering it."

Peter looks down and lifts his hand, staring at the two tickets that had been covered by his palm. He gently picks them up, holding them gingerly before he scans the paper. They're airplane tickets. To New York. Just he and his dad. A two way trip for a whole week. 

"We're going back to New York?" he whispers excitedly and terrified at the same time. 

Tony nods and leans against the table. "You wanted real, we're gonna get real. Stark Tower is under renovations, but the labs there are done. Meaning we can work on suits there for an entire week. I need some help with the new model. Maybe someone to test fly the thrusters," he says slowly, grinning as Peter's head snaps up. 

The boy is choked up and his jaw drops to his chest. "You mean it? Just us? A whole week? With the suits?"

"Yeah, just you and me kiddo," Tony nods, a smile growing on his face when he sees how happy his son is. "We'll make up some excuse for how you're sick and can't come to school. You have that Monday off anyway."

Peter launches himself forward, Tony yanking his hands out of his pockets in time to catch him and not get tackled. His son crashes into his chest, plane tickets tight in his fist as he hugs him, and Tony wraps his arms around him, lowering his chin to rest atop his curls as he squeezes him tightly. They stay like that for a while. 

"Thanks dad," Peter whispers, and seconds later he feels a tap on his back- a cue to let go. He pulls away but Tony keeps him within arms length and locks eyes with him. 

"There's another reason we're going back," he reveals, and Peter waits cautiously. "So you can feel it," Tony says slowly. 

Peter cocks his head and shakes it, unsure what he means. "F-feel what?" he asks. 

"When something bad happens somewhere, you never want to go back. Even if you don't know it. It's because once you're back there, everything is upside down. It can look different but you'll still see it the same way, feel the things that you felt. It's gonna make you wish you were anywhere but there, that's what happens when you put your life on the line for a living. It tries to ruin some places for you, even ones close to your heart like the tower, but Peter, you can't let that happen in this job. You can't let it take more than you give it, does that make sense?" he asks seriously.

Peter nods and makes out, "Yes."

"So we need to go back because when you walk those streets again and I'd rather you feel it now, with me there to help you, then when you're just forced into it," he says firmly, and his sober tone just adding to the fact that this is a very somber conversation. But Peter isn't afraid, or excited. He's just...

"You wanted to get real with this, kiddo," Tony says slowly, like he's unsure of himself. He sees his father wince as he bites the inside of his cheek and manages a laugh, "And as much as I don't like what Obadiah said, there was some truth in his words. I need to help you prepare as much as I can." Then Tony bends down and gently holds his shoulders, using one hand to cup his cheek but affectionately and firmly, "but that does not mean shoving you into the deep end, so don't ask to go there, do you understand?" 

"Yes sir," Peter nods firmly, determined. Maybe that was the world. 

"That's my boy," Tony cracks a smile. Peter smiles back, wider when his father ruffles his hair before clasping his hands and turning away to walk back to the table, back to his chipper and sarcastic self, rambling about the suits and throwing in a sassy remark. Peter is just staring at the plane tickets in his hand, heart beating fast, every sense dialed to eleven. He grins to himself. 

He just can't wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taddaaaaaa  
> okayyy so a trip to New York >:)))) wonder how that's gonna go. Dun dun dunnnnn  
> I tried to slip a lot more lion king references into this one as we build up :) so if you recognized some scenes and lines and were like wait a second- yes. that was lion king lol LIKE TRYING TO INCLUDE THE I JUST CANT WAIT TO BE KING i made myself laugh way too hard last night its literally not even funny but anyway XD  
> SO WEVE GOT THAT PLOT DEVELOPMENT WHAT ELSE  
> Mj and Steve dynamic which literally has me dying i love them and Mj is a queen  
> Also I think Pepper is the only mature one but hey who can say no to peter and tony both smiling? answer? no one.  
> Steve has a hard head hell be fine. Star wars is amazing. Ummmm Clint is a kid with his power ranger jammies. Obadiah is still awful and i want to chuck him out a window just as much as you guys dont worry i share your pain.  
> AND Peter and Tony we stan the best father son duo literally ever.  
> So i hope you all enjoyed and i hope you have an amazing day, please please, please drop a comment tell me what you thought of this chapter what you think of the future or legit anything at all i love hearing from you guys you are the best <3 the support has been soooooo greatly appreciated :)))  
> New chapter ASAP im still sticking to my 5-6 day range i think its doable haha sorry life has kicked up a notch  
> (another apology for stab me in the back fans, i miss the 15 k chapters in 4 days as well i think i used up that ability solely for that story haha)  
> BUT ANYWAY i must be going because i do have class now so everyone have an amazing day, thank you for reading, watch wanda vision its really freaking good XD, and stay safe and healthy! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and as always :)  
> I love you 3000 <3 <3


	11. Hope: Dead or Alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO LOVELY READERS <3 <3  
> Okay....so I rly dont want to say anything chapter related because i want you guys to go into this blind, so i will start off by saying it is late and I actually go to school school tmrw and I want coffee. Second i will say that the reason why it took me so long to get this out is because of timing and splitting this up chapter wise. So hopefully the next one comes out quicker now that I know exactly how i want to do it- it indeed took me a while to figure it out though so apologize :/ thank you for bearing with me.  
> ANYWAY  
> Im hyped for this one. I am not hyped for tmrw but hey thats life XD I hope all of you are doing well, hope you had a great weekend and Monday, and a great day today! If things are tough rn keep ur head up hang in there, it's all gonna work out.  
> And another round of applause and reminder that Stiltsrosko is the genius behind this work and with this chapter especially as we start to ramp things up i hope i am making their vision come to life.  
> And thank YOU all who read and comment, talking w yall in the comments is amazing you are all so awesome and i rly appreciate the support. Ight, strap in, this is gonna be a rough ride.  
> Read on awesome peeps :)

There's a certain feeling one gets when waking up early for a trip. Even if you aren't a morning person, you wake up with an energy that is rare and exhilarating. It's shooting through Peter's veins as he pushes away his covers and sets his feet on the ground. He had slept in his clothes so he stands by the mirror as he puts on his glasses, yawns, and tosses his hair around a bit so that his bed head isn't as obvious. Then he grabs his already packed suitcase and wrestles on a maroon hoodie. A second is, well he wouldn't say wasted, staring in the mirror, imagining himself in a little while, in the full suit, which he internally promised himself he would wear before the week was up. Giddy with anticipation he bolts out the door, his suitcase clattering down the hallway. 

About halfway, he's caught around the waist and swung enough off the ground to make him giggle. Once he's set straight, he looks up at his dad who shakes his head in amusement, a big duffel draped over his arm. "There are people trying to sleep, Pete," he chides without much firmness, lifting his son's suitcase up so it doesn't make such a loud noise. Peter skips beside him, spinning around and walking backwards as they make their way down the hall. 

"What time do we leave again?" he asks quietly as they pass the other rooms of the Avengers. 

Tony checks his watch as they walk and says, "Fifteen minutes or our jet's gonna leave without us."

"How can a private jet leave without us on it? Isn't that the whole point of having a private jet?" Peter asked in confusion, stumbling over his feet in excitement enough times that Tony gently turns him around to walk normally with a grin. His son stays under his arm.

"That is the question I've been asking myself for years," Tony said in agreement. 

"Wait, and if it's a private jet, why did we have plane tickets?" Peter frowned. 

"Oh," that one he could answer. "Because they looked cooler," Tony told him, looking over with a smirk. 

"Oh."

"Is there gonna be food on the plane?" he asks, making a face. "I'm hungry." 

"Do you know your father at all, kiddo?" Tony scoffs and Peter grins, taking that as a yes. 

They arrived at the kitchen and saw Pepper sitting at the table, coffee in hand, absentmindedly stirring as she looked at a magazine. She smiled at the commotion which could only come from her two boys, not even looking up yet. Then she got up from her seat, tucking her robe tighter around her as her son ran to give her a hug. Pepper squeezed Peter tightly, sliding a thermos across the table with her other hand to Tony who caught it in his palm.

"Caffeine," she said to him and Tony gave her the pure definition of heart eyes. Rubbing Peter's hair, she held the young boy at arms length and spoke firmly, "You be good for your dad, understand? Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." 

"I will," Peter grinned until Tony scoffed and jabbed at his side making his son giggle and twist away in laughter. The older Stark cut in between them, spinning Pepper around and kissing her firmly, smiling against her lips. 

"I will be extra careful, like I always am," he promised, as she laced her fingers with his and suppressed a smile. 

"That's not comforting," she shook her head and narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips together to show she wasn't budging. "I think we have two definitions of what careful means," she informed him. 

"Well, it's something," he grinned, kissing her lightly again. "You'll be all set with the company while I'm gone?" he asked.

"I think sometimes you forget the fact that I run this place, every day," she pointed out, putting a hand to his chest, Peter grinning in the background. "While also taking care of you, which means for a precious week, I will have a lot more free time on my hands," she smiled sweetly, continuing still, "and add on being a mom, and putting up with the two of you combined-"

"Yes, well, you are a superhero," Tony tells her lovingly.

"It's a wonder you're mature enough," she tells him with a frown, and Tony starts thinking of all the things he had done wrong that she could be calling him out for. It was a long list; he wasn't even halfway done when she said, "Who apparently knows my kryptonite and thinks it's funny. For the love of all that is good, stop buying strawberries, Tony."

"It will never cease to be hilarious," Tony says simply. He kept the refrigerator filled with at least two cartons just for laughs, and the look on Pepper's face when she spun to face him some mornings, eyes narrowed, was something he wouldn't trade for the world. He grins and grabs the thermos, winking, "You sure you won't miss us too much?"

Pepper smiled and crossed her arms, confidently, "I've got Jarvis."

_"That's very kind of you, Pepper."_

"Make sure she doesn't sell my company away, will you, Jarvis?" Tony teased. Pepper knew better than anyone that he needed her in every aspect of his life, whether it was parenting, work, hero business, etc. The banter back and forth was just proof of a healthy relationship. So Tony simply whistled when she threw back a retort with an innocent look.

"I'll leave you 12%," she suggested with a shrug and mischievous smile. "Since that was deemed a suitable share a couple years back. Yeah, I think that's fair." Pepper had a glint in her eye as she sipped from her steaming cup.

"She got you," Peter announced firmly, snorting as he looks at his father who had lost that round.

Tony shakes his head and exhales before lifting his chin higher. "You never admit defeat," he tells his son before he walks towards his wife. "You simply say, I love you, you are my entire world, sweetie. Please don't sell my company. I will make you dinner right when we get back, and by that I mean I will buy something from the store, reheat it, and put it on really fancy plates. You'll never know the difference," he grins as he plants a kiss on her cheek and then rounds the table towards their bags.

"I'll know the difference," she assures him with a light laugh.

"But you'll pretend not to," he grins, giving her a small salute. "See ya in a week."

"You said bye to everyone?" she asked as Tony rolled Peter's suitcase towards him with a small push of his heel, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a huff. Peter clicks the handle into place and lets it rest against his heel as he tilts it. 

Tony nodded and rubbed his goatee, stiffing a yawn, "Yeah, last night. Steve went to bed early, or at least I think he was sleeping when we passed his room. Or maybe Peter hit him over the head again. One or the other."

"I did not!" Peter scowled, looking at his mother for back up. "Mom, I didn't."

You'd think with all the time together they would know when the other was teasing. She smirked at the two of them before turning to her son and asking gently, "What about MJ?" Michelle had left two days ago, and they had planned to have a sleepover right when he got back home in a week. The Avengers would still be there at that time, so the two kids were very excited and had a whole night of board games planned. Peter had a bet with Clint that he could get Bruce to play twister, and he intended to win it. 

"I'll text her before we get on the plane," Peter nodded, patting his watch. He still didn't have an iPhone, but MJ was really the only person he kept in contact with besides his parents. So when he wasn't at home or with her, he was texting her on his watch, since she was added to the list of contacts. 

"Alright. Have fun you two. Be safe," she winked. "I love you," Pepper called, blowing them both a kiss. 

"Love you too. Don't tell her about the whole jumping out of the plane thing we talked about," Tony joked, smirking in Pepper's direction who groaned and turned away, waving them off. Peter and Tony rounded the corner, both snickering, before they jogged down the steps to the lower level, Peter's suitcase bouncing against the stairs behind him. 

At 4 in the morning it was a little chilly outside in the California air, and Tony stopped the car in the middle of the tarmac. He put it in park and they got out their luggage before hurrying to the jet that was waiting for them a little ways away. Happy was standing at the bottom of the ramp, along with Rhodey, both discussing flight plans and Stark Industry related topics. They stopped when they saw the father and son approaching, smiles breaking out on their faces as the clipboards and tablets dropped to their sides. 

Tony grinned and clasped hands with Rhodey, patting him on the shoulder. He cherished every second he had with his best friend, the man who had been there for him since Afghanistan, who had been at his side through it all, even with the ups and downs. "So how's that new desk job treating you?" he asked innocently. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Oh, Tony, thanks for that," Rhodey chuckled knowingly, the man dressed in his crisply ironed uniform. His absence from the Stark household was due to a new job that he was on beck and call for, free time limited. That's what promotions did, Tony explained to Peter. They aren't as glamorous as they seemed. Rhodey's eyes found Peter and he pulled the boy in for a hug that the younger Stark was waiting for, answering the tease for the heck of it. "It's been busy, but good. Unlike you, I don't get to have fancy parties and blow stuff up in a lab all day."

"Exactly, because you sit a desk and answer phones. Do you expect me to be jealous? I don't really...get the point you're making," Tony asked with a shrug, keeping a straight face as Rhodey scoffed and rolled his eyes. Tony took that a cue to continue; he would never miss an opportunity to toss a joke or two in the direction of his best friend. "It's like that job was made for people who hated fun. Like Footloose but instead of dancing it was just, liking your work."

Rhodey ruffled Peter's messy hair and looked down at him, hands on his shoulders as he squeezed them gently. "You keep him from doing anything stupid and from bullying anyone else. That's special treatment for me only."

"Why does everyone keep telling an twelve year old to stop his father from doing something stupid?" Tony complained, lifting his hands in confusion and looking around as if e expected to find answers. Peter just smiled, adjusting his glasses and shoving his hands into his pockets, a gesture that mimicked his father almost perfectly. 

"There was that time that you sprayed whipped cream onto your palm and tried to catch it in your mouth after blasting it up," Happy informed him in a low voice, leaning to Tony's shoulder. 

Tony turned almost instantly, and he shook his head. "That was after a couple," he defended himself before he pointed and whispered, "You know too much." His eyes flicked to the side and he put his hand to his ear, "Target one needs to be compromised immediately." 

"Easy there, without me you wouldn't even get in the sky," Happy snorted, patting the iPad. He folded his arms and then announced, "You're fueled and set for the flight. And it's my job as Head of Security to once again request-"

Tony stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and sighed, "Do you really want to tell me to have an entire Men in Black team just staring at my kid and I the entire week? Once we get to the tower there's enough security issued around the building, we will be fine. We don't need a separate team."

"As Head of Security, I'm obligated-" Happy protests as they turn to face each other completely, the conversation sobering just slightly.

"As a friend, then, Happy," Tony insists. There's a pause and he waits for a response, knowing the one he's gonna get. 

"As your friend, I say go have father son time," Happy sighs in defeat, looking over at Peter who is giggling with Rhodey. 

Tony smiled and nodded, "Thank you, that's what I thought, I just needed to hear you say it. Extra reassurance. Here's the keys to the car. You can drive it back. Scratch it and you're demoted," he winked, tossing them up into the man's waiting palm who whistled and nodded at his joke, like there was anyone else who could do his job. They turn back around to Rhodey and Peter who have also finished their conversation. 

"Uncle Rhodey, you need to come to the party next week. The Avengers will be there," Peter is telling him, nudging his arm in excitement. 

"Already wishing the week away," Tony tisked in teasing as he takes his place at his side. 

"I'll be there," Rhodey winked before he turned to the older Stark and crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows, "as an honorary guest apparently. When is my Avenger initiation, huh, Tony?"

"I thought you liked the 9-5 life?" Tony smirked and Rhodey laughed, opening his arms as they quickly embraced, clapping one another on the back. "Maybe when I get back, huh? I'll think about it," Stark promised him with assurance.

"You'll think about it," Rhodey snickered. He shoved his friend's shoulder as he walks towards the steps of the plane. Peter giggles and follows his dad, looking behind him with a smirk as Rhodey calls after him, "I want a suit! Peter, work on that for me, will ya?" Peter salutes and Tony gasps in mock hurt.

"Hey, if you have that meeting with Ross, ask him if he liked his gift," Tony tells Rhodey, pointing at him as he walked away.

Rhodey puts a hand on his hip and snorts, "You got him a gift?"

"Yeah a flashlight," Tony called to him. "Tell him I just thought it would be helpful because it's dark in his ass and his head is just so far up there."

"Peter, don't say that word," Rhodey tells the boy, the one willing to be the 'Pepper' of the situation.

"I said 'there,'" Tony defends himself. 

Peter giggles, and groans, "Dad!" Tony grins to the two men who are chuckling, before he puts his arm around his son and eases his step so Peter can go first up the ramp after waving to Happy and Rhodey who begin to walk away.

"So when we get there, I think we should do the systems check comparing the old blasters with the new-" Peter turns around, walking backwards up into the plane as he explains his plans to his father. His mind was going a million times a minute, trying to think of everything they needed to do in the short time they had. He was so immersed in his own world that he didn't hear his father's warning. Tony has to reach with a smirk and grab hold of his arm as someone starts down the ramp and nearly runs into Peter. The young and distracted spins and finds Obadiah staring down at him, and he grins, his father chuckling behind him. 

"Obie!" Tony greets, a younger version of himself also smiling up at the man who is dressed casual today, with a white shirt and black pants, hands inside his pockets, eyes crinkled. 

"I just came to make sure everything was fine on board. A few check ups, dotted a few i's, crossed a few t's. And I made sure they put extra snacks in the fridges. I want you two to enjoy yourselves. Relax. De-stress," he assures them, ruffling Peter's hair with a fond smile. He clasps hands with Tony who nods in appreciation. "And I'll see you both when you get back. Hopefully wiser, yeah? Peter, learn everything you can from your dad. The future owner of the company is gonna get a glimpse of what it is to be a hero," he winks, looking pointedly at the young boy.

Peter straightens with pride and nods, promising, "I will." He feels a hand on his shoulder from Tony and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, the young boy boards the plane, the older Stark telling his son to go get seated.

He turns and nods to the man once they're alone and speaks sincerely, and without sarcasm, something reserved for only close friends or relatives, "Thank you for this, Obie. I mean it. I think I just needed someone to set me straight. And that's always been you," he admits. "So I don't know why I'm surprised you came through again."

"Anything for you, Tony," he says, lifting his chin despite the small voice. "You're like family, you know that," the older man insists, bobbing his head slightly, lips curled into a supportive smile. Tony claps him on the shoulder and then turns, hand grabbing the outside of the plane as he ducks in. Obadiah's eyes watch him as he gets on board, hearing his muffled call to his son, smile dropping as soon as Tony was out of sight. He walks down the ramp, his feet touching the dark pavement, turning around as the wind begins to blow again, icy cold. 

The ramp retracts into the plane with a slow mechanical whir and Peter, who is pressed against the window, watches as Rhodey and Happy both get in the car they took to drive here and head back to their house. Obadiah heads back for the main building, head bowed. Excitedly, Peter leans as far forward as he can so he can admire the sleek plane, with the shiny white covering, which he tries to dissect in his head, imaging the mechanics underneath. His head snaps back as Tony comes out of the cockpit after chatting with the pilots and he bounds into his seat, laughing as it spins him in a circle. 

"Seatbelt, kiddo," Tony tells him with a smirk as he takes the seat next to them, the plane starting up as they turn for the nearest runway. 

"This is my favorite part," Peter whispers excitedly, hands gripping the seat with white knuckles not out of fear but out of excitement. "The lift off," he breaths, staring out the window as they pick up speed. The jet is trembling just slightly and Peter's eyes remain wide and full of wonder. Mechanics never ceased to amaze him. Tony's looking at him in awe, relived that the boy could still find happiness in everything. 

"Oh shoot," Peter mutters. He hastily snaps his arm up to his watch, making Tony frown; the boy always loved experiencing the feeling of take off. He wouldn't miss it unless it was something very important- "I need to text MJ-" he says, his tongue trapped between his lips as he hastily types and presses send before his head goes into the back of the seat with a loud groan. He lifts his arm to show his dad, "Text not delivered."

"Don't worry. You can resend it when we land," Tony assures him with a low chuckle, ruffling his curls. They lift off at that moment and Peter grins as the jet soars into the air, tilting backwards, Tony chuckling at his reaction as they're forced to lean back into their seats. "Never gets old, does it kiddo?" he asks, for he too loved the feeling. Peter shakes his head and Tony makes a face, smirking.

He had always loved flying for two reasons, it had started out with planes, but that adrenaline rush had taken up a whole new level when he became Iron Man. Something else he had yet to share with the boy next to him. "Can't wait til you're in a suit and doing it, huh?" he asks his son with a slowly growing smile. Peter's eyes light up even more, which he didn't think was possible. 

Obadiah sits in the chair, which he finds quite comfortable. The first thing he did when he walked in was make coffee. A white porcelain mug, one of many that were resting upside down. He picks it up off the place mat and sets it on the coffee maker's base. Then, pushing the big button, he takes satisfaction from hearing the brew. The window behind him sheds sunlight into the office he is in, and he lets his heels rock him back in forth on the chair. 

New York would solve all of his problems. Sooner than anyone had thought, sooner than even he had thought. Ever since Afghanistan, it had been one torturous day after another, forced to spend time with a family he hated more than anything in the world, more often now that the boy had begun to foolishly trust him. Arguing with Tony and playing the compassionate apology card, maintaining the caring composure and flaunting it around like it was sincere- it was all so exhausting. His gaze flicked to the coffee maker, eager to get the horrible taste out of his mouth. 

As for right now, he was waiting. His phone was flat on his desk, a desk that was not his in the office that was not his, but one that belonged to Tony Stark. Behind him, the window that he and his brat of a son had sat on watching a sunrise. Obadiah's nose scrunched at even the thought of it. The coffee maker Peter had made a cup in to gauge his reaction, a sneaky move from the small boy, was behind him. And the chair that he was sitting in was Tony's, sat in by Peter, the boy that thought he was going to take over the company. 

Obadiah was just waiting. As he had for years. But now it was all finally falling into place, and he was prepared. More prepared then ever. And so he stared at the phone. Because he knew it would ring sooner or later.

They're about twenty minutes from the city. Time has flown bye, no pun intended. Peter and Tony are sitting on the ground of the plane, eyes narrowed as they face each other. "You had to do it, didn't you?" Tony growled. His son glared at him, stare unwavering. 

"You left me no choice, dad," Peter said angrily. Tony sighed and picked up four extra cards, that were all different colors, which didn't help his case. "Uno," Peter says happily as he places down a red seven after the devastating red plus 4 he had given to the older Stark. 

Tony places down a Color Changer and takes a deep breath; the stakes had never been higher than they were right now. Peter whistles at his move, and can't help but give a respectful nod. Either the game was over right now with the wrong choice, or Tony could stay alive by calling a different color and leaving his son at the mercy of the unforgiving shared deck in the middle of them.

"So what color do you have currently?" Tony thinks out loud. "I don't care what it says on the box, this is a game for complex thinkers. Someone who has to decide what color to play so that you don't win," he mutters thoughtfully, eyes flicking to the pile and then to his son's hands that hold the single card. "Lucky I am a genius, so you're chances are low."

"Well I'm the son of a genius," Peter says, adding another factor to his already pressuring decision he has to make.

"This is true. It could be red, which is why you played it the last couple hands," Tony says, eyes flicking back and forth as he ponders.

"Could be," Peter nodded, completely poker faced, an ability he had picked up from his father. A small smirk was visible, completely natural, the curl of his lip. 

"Or you could have just gotten rid of your reds and are waiting for me to put down another color. You waited to place your plus four so that you knew I would be faced with options. You played about three blues a couple turns ago so you would have played a blue with them," he says, biting his lip as he thinks. 

"Would I have?" Peter yawns innocently. 

Tony scoffs and shoots him a look, "Don't throw me off track. I'm gonna figure this out, even if it kills me. It's not yellow because you searched the deck of for a yellow for about five minutes- nearly had half the deck," he chuckles. 

"And you thought you were gonna win, but look who made the comeback. Clock is ticking, dad," Peter shrugs, flapping the card around with a grin. 

Tony chews on his inner cheek and groans, "Fine. It's not blue, it's not yellow, it's not red. Which means it has to be green. But you..." he says slowly, wagging his finger. "You would know that I would get to green and ultimately pick another color, so you would never leave a clean trail like that. Unless you knew I'd suspect that and pick another color even though it actually is green," he raises an eyebrow, looking for any physical indication he was close to the truth. 

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes, putting his chin in the palm of his hand. "Now you're just stalling," he pointed out.

Tony barely had time to grin. "Mayb-"

It's like the world turned black.

Maybe that's just because he squeezed his eyes shut.

Maybe... the last word he had tried to say before the entire plane lurches sideways, and a massive explosion rocked the jet. His ears rang so loud he swore they started bleeding. The force slams into him as he feels weightless for a second, entire body tensing, heart leaping in his chest as his stomach is clenched with a hard fist. The world tips in slow motion before the pain kicks in of crashing across the ground. His neck muscles scream from the whiplash as he is tossed just like Peter is, to the side, slamming hard into chairs and eventually the wall of the jet. His son's shout is cut off and Tony feels his own breath forced out of him as his spine is practically bent upon impact, lungs crushed.

It all happened so fast, he can't even take a breath- and that was before the worst part, the nose of the plane diving down. Vision already spinning as it is, threatening to turn completely white, Tony's sent tumbling backward as the entire plane goes vertical, rolling head over heels until he crashes into the far wall of the fuselage, head hitting hard, curling up as things fall on top of them. 

He's gasping.

Everything is tipping.

It's blurry.

White spots-

He shoves whatever is pinning him off and it slides past him due to the slant, sucking in air. Alarms are shrieking in his head, deafening, to the point where he wants to the collapse and just put his hands over his ears. His knuckles are bleeding and pale white as he grips the wall; the plane is shuddering, everything in front of him shaking.

But there's only one thing on his mind. 

"Peter!" he shouts, his yell sending fire through his lungs. He scans the plane, touching a hand to his head, his palm coming away bloody. Tony pulls himself up to his feet, staggering as he practically stares _up_ at the back of the jet, still holding on tightly, and glances in horror out the closest window, vision focusing just enough to see the massive flames billowing and flashing around the compromised engine.

They're pummeling towards the ground, the horrible lighting from the outside as the plane falls casting shadows that resemble strobe lights on the inside of the plane.

Tony doesn't care.

The entire jet creaks and groans and he still looks up again, screaming, "PETE!"

"DAD!" 

Grabbing a chair to pulls himself up a bit, his eyes find him. Peter's groaning as he gets to his feet from where he was, hands out to maintain balance, crouching so he can stay on his feet despite the tilt of the plane. He's holding himself up, eyes wide as they lock with his father, a silent scream asking what he should do. With no words, and no spared moment of sudden relief, Peter immediately obeys his father's silent call to just let go. He pushes off the chair he's holding onto and begins to climb down, sliding the last couple feet and slamming into Tony's chest with a cry.

"I've got you, you're okay kid-" he grips his son tight, hand in his hair as the plane suddenly tips to the side. Tony lets out a curse as grabs him and dives for the corner, covering both their heads as everything that isn't bolted down flies in every direction. Glasses shatter and the cart of food tips, uno cards scattering across the floor along with all the food in the fridges as they topple. It's a warzone as he looks over his shoulder, the floor shaking beneath their feet.

"What's happening?" Peter yells over the alarms, unhurt for the most part, scrapes and bruises that he sadly couldn't address or worry about right now. He holds his father tightly, looking around for answers. "What's happening!"

"I don't know. We've got to get to the cockpit, okay?" Tony says firmly, turning around.

Peter tugs on his arm, because now he sees the flames coming from the engine, and he swallows. The voice is small, the fire flickering in his eyes like a reflection as he stares in terror, fearful of the aircraft they're stuck in and he shouts, "Dad- dad! The engine- oh God, the engine-"

"I know," Tony says quickly, biting his lip so hard he tastes blood. He refuses to look at the fire that's eating away at the one thing keeping them in the air. Cockpit. Had to get to the cockpit. "Hold onto me, do not let go- Peter, do you understand?" he shouts, cupping the sides of his son's face before he uses his own hand to curl Peter's fingers around his shirt. His son nods, eyes fierce and fearful, a mix Tony wished he hadn't seen, but was grateful to have at the same time. 

Tony slams the door open to the cockpit and nearly slips, catching himself at the last second, the two of them putting their hands out to steady themselves as the plane rightens slightly not on purpose, but like it's too out of control. Like someone in freefall flailing their limbs. His stomach flips with nausea, unable to focus on anything more than a foot in front of him, headache already forming.

Peter curls his fingers tighter around his father's shirt and sucks in a breath as there is another dip in the back of the plane following a loud and thundering explosion. Peter slams into Tony's back and his father's hand instantly curls around him from behind, looking over his shoulder. The engine is dead. It's now trailing smoke instead of fire, a horrible shrieking sound coming from the propellers that are not turning as fast anymore. 

They've made it to the cockpit door and Tony wrenches it open and he nearly stumbles back. He doesn't know exactly what he was expecting; he hadn't really thought about it, but he steps in, gaze falling both pilots slumped against the controls, unconscious or dead, he didn't know yet. He's left staring in horror at the sight as dread creeps into his stomach and eats away at his calm. The men's hands were limp at their sides and oh God-

He now knew the answer. Wide eyes stared from both of them, into his soul, dark and motionless. Foam dripped from their mouths, and their veins were more pronounced, faces ashen white, but eye bags dark. Not unconscious. Dead.

"Peter, close your eyes," he hisses behind him with a painful swallow as he moves his son's hands from his shirt, instructing him to hold onto the rail on the side. 

"But-"

"I said close them, Pete!" he snaps, and Peter obeys, knowing it was not anger, but firmness that radiated from his father's voice. He grips the rail tighter and shoves his eyes shut, burying them in his arm as he ducks his head into his shoulder. Tony unhooks both men and drags them out of the seats, pulling them to slump against the wall as quickly as he can before he slips into the seat and yanks up on the controls.

With one hand he reaches back and grabs Peter's shirt, his son returning the hold on his arm, desperate for stability as the plane straightens. Peter moves forward and slips into the co-pilot's seat, pulling up as well on the handles that Tony instructs him to. He's seen enough from movies to know that will do something good. The plane is still dropping rapidly in it's altitude, but it is at least level now after a couple seconds of them pulling in unison.

The entire jet is shaking, and alarms are blaring, buttons are flashing and neither have any idea how to fly a plane with an engine out. He's flying manually, since the preset destination was Stark Tower. He needed to guide it away from the city. His hands were the only thing doing that at the moment. 

"Are you hurt?" Tony demands, staring through the glass that shows them spiraling down into white blankets as they fall. The blue sky hasn't come yet, that's his only comfort' that meant they were still lost in the clouds.

Even looking over at Peter is not a clear image, combined with his blurry vision and the shaking of the plane. His son is staring straight ahead; he's in shock. Peter gulps and his hands are shaking as they pull the handles to his chest tightly. Tony's heart is pounding and he shouts a command, desperate to snap him out of his trance. "Pete, look at me!" he hates the tone he's forced to use. "Are you hurt?"

"No- no," Peter stutters out as his head snaps to the side and he violently shakes his head with a wince. Tony sees he's lying. He's clutching his ribs, and he hadn't put pressure on his ankle. But the worst part is that he can't worry about that, because Peter said he was fine, which meant it wasn't serious. And he had to go off of that. Of he took a second to actually gauge his pain level it would probably be the same. Peter was thankfully thrown into a chair which stopped his fall and gave him padding, and prevented him from taking the second plunge as the plane tilted down. Tony did not want to lift his shirt or even consider pain because for right now adrenaline was winning that battle and he could properly stay focused without worrying about the searing white heat that would crawl up his legs and arms and head and ribs once he let it in just like the water that trickled down his throat as his lips finally opened all those years ago-

Yes, he was swallowing a panic attack down as well, his thoughts a mile a minute- no breaks.

"Dad- what- what happened- what do we do-what do we do?" Peter stutters. He's not crying. Tony's glad he's not. But the boy should be crying- stop. Tony doesn't have time to dive into his failure as a parent.

But Tony can't give him an answer. He grabs the headset that was dangling and shoves it on, breathing hard, calling out in the static. If he could get in touch with someone, they could tell him how to fly the damn thing and he could try and get them to land safely.

But he was met with nothing.

Crackling.

Dead intercom.

Tony shakes his head. "No- no!" he curses, looking around, trying to patch himself through again, met with the same result. He yanks the headset off and slams it on the ground where it rolls to the back of the room. 

Peter flinches, but his eyes do not waver, his muscles still tensed from pulling on the handles.

That shouldn't be possible, Tony thinks- or at least he tries to think with the roaring in his ears, his surroundings just an internalization of what he feels during a panic attack. Then there's a small crackle, and the static he hears is dripping with false hope. They both hear a voice, breaking through the period of nothingness, but it's message is garbled. It's from a voice modulator, and it sends chills down his spine. It is not the help they needed, it is entirely opposite. Tony sits up straighter in the chair, Peter watching him carefully, chest rising and falling quickly.

The words echo around him and throughout the cockpit, burying deep into the heart and soul of the man they are addressing.

_“You’re an Iron Monger, Tony. You shouldn’t have forgotten that.”_

Back to the jarring finality of silence. But the threat was made. This was planned. Someone had done this. Tony's chest turns to fire and his hands clench. Hatred runs through his veins as he steels his gaze.

"Who was that?" Peter whispers, breaking him from his thoughts. Tony stares, his physical body still frozen in a combination of confusion and shock. "Who the HELL WAS THAT?" Peter screams, tearing up his throat as he gasps, shifting in his seat before getting up entirely and pointing at the headset that is just back to playing static. 

"It doesn't matter- Peter, look at me. It doesn't matter because we're gonna get out of here, okay? Peter? I need you to stay calm," he instructs weakly, reaching with one arm to grab his son's wrist and squeeze it tightly, desperate to make eye contact with the boy who was on the brink of losing it completely. "Can you do that for me? I will get you through this, I promise," Tony urges him and Peter steadies his breathing, finally looking at him and calming instantly. Tony nods and insists, "Trust me."

"How?" Peter swallows a sob and nods, eager to do something, to distract himself. His father purses his lips; there was only one last thing that could create a communication link. 

"I need you to get the suit," Tony says calmly, keeping his voice level as he flicks his head behind him, his sore neck flaring with pain. "Now. Can you do that?" he asks his son, looking over at him while still pulling up as hard as he can to try and steady the jet that is dropping through the clouds. Peter gulps and blinks harshly, licking his lips and nodding, putting his hands out to grip the chair as he gets out of his seat, shaking. He's never seen Peter trembling this hard. For a second Tony thinks he should be the one to go, but Peter couldn't possible pull hard enough on this handle, no matter how strong that boy is. It's even making Tony sweat. He needs to be the one to go.

"Pete, be careful," Tony barks, and his son nods slowly, grabbing the wall as he pushes open the door. "Keep talking to me, kiddo," he says, hoping the boy cannot hear the panic lacing his voice. "I need to hear you."

"I-I see it. It's under- it's under a chair," Peter calls back, voice muffled as the door swings shut, and Tony feels physical pain as it closes. "I'm getting it. Everything's shaking."

"It's okay. Just hold on. Keep your feet steady. How's it looking bud, can you tell me that?" he tries to keep his voice upbeat, but inside he's never been more terrified. His hands are aching and his knuckles are practically frozen, his chest tight, neck craning, waiting the painful seconds before he can see his son again. It's been two seconds too long. "Huh?" he calls again.

"It's okay." The door opens and Peter grabs a hold of the wall to steady himself before hurrying over with the hot rod red case in his hands, locking eyes with his father whose body language radiates relief. He nearly slumps in his chair, heart racing so fast he feels like it's going to burst from his chest but he stays rigid in the seat. It takes everything in him not to just crumple into a panic attack; his chest has never hurt so much his entire life, like knives were just being raked down the center of it. Peter's voice snaps him back to reality and takes some of the pain away.

"It's fine," the kid says, and his voice breaks before he strengthens it. "It's not- not damaged. Not damaged. What do I do-"

"You're gonna put on the suit," Tony says firmly, and Peter stares, holding the case in his hands. His mouth opens slightly and his eyes reveal a kaleidoscope of emotions. Tony knows he's shocked, but he can't worry about that right now. He just continues, "It will remove the pieces it needs to to fit you. In the helmet there's a earpiece for coms," he instructs, looking over his shoulder at his son. "I need you to take that out and give it to me, can you do that?"

Peter doesn't answer for a second, but he nods and makes out, "Yes. Y-eah. Okay."

"That's my boy," Tony encourages him as Peter unlocks the case with shaking fingers. He stands and the plane lurches, Tony letting out a groan as he keeps it level, snapping his head back to look at Peter who caught himself on the wall and gives him a nod to let him know he's stable. Pushing his glasses up on his face, one lens cracked, Tony hadn't noticed before, the boy steps in the middle with a nod.

With a sudden spring up, the suitcase expands around his foot, Peter letting out a gasp as it starts climbing up his leg. The other mechanical parts whirl and shift as they start to form around his lower half, Tony watching carefully. This is not how he wanted this moment to happen. He wanted to throttle fate with his bare hands. 

"Keep going, you're doing great, kiddo. Reach down, grab the two red handles- you see them?" Tony asks firmly, having to turn away for a second to adjust the plane. He is forced to speak louder over the roar of the plane, barely having the strength to unclench his fingers and fix his grip.

"Yeah-" Peter lets go of the railing and shakily bends, grabbing the sides and pulling it up to his chest. The suit is forming around his waist and it spreads to his arms, Peter's awe and wonder strangled by fear. 

"Okay," Tony says with a nod, giving Peter a half smile, "Now spread your arms. You're doing great. I'm so proud of you, Pete."

Peter yanks his fists apart and the entire chest plate locks in place, the mechanics forming around his arms with whirs. Everything else does it's job as it clasps over his arms and chest, the arc reactor slowly blinking to life with a high pitched whir. The flaps all fall down like dominoes, hot rod red flashing on his shoulders, the palms heating up.

"Woah," the boy breathes, but it's tight, and any happiness is buried deep beneath a wide range of emotions that take precedent. Trailing down the back of his legs, each individual piece of mechanics clasps in place and locks, Peter moving slightly, lifting one foot after the other, flexing his fingers as the gaunlets begin to gleam in the center of his palm, the neck beginning to form as well. The back of the helmet come up to rest over his curly hair, not yet covering his face, with eyes that were dimmed by the situation, but still gave off flickers of light.

Tony's eyes sting horribly and the knot just tightens in his stomach, twisted harder and harder. Peter looks up at him with a sound of twisted happiness, wrestled down by a sob and the boy steels himself, standing in the suit's full glory, except for the final face plate. There's a ghost of a smile Tony can't help but smile back just a little bit. The lump in his throat makes it hard for him to wrestle out the words and his voice cracks as he whispers, "There we g-"

A cuss is torn from his mouth as a massive explosion rocks the jet. Peter goes flying to the side, hitting the door and tumbling out of sight. The plane lurches and drops and Tony shouts a curse as he's thrown sideways into the other chair and dash, slamming into the array of buttons. He scrambles back into his seat and yanks the handle to his chest to try and steady the plane, the small indicator light showing that the engine on the other side had just failed. He cusses loudly before nearly giving himself whiplash. 

"PETER! You okay kid?" he yells, twisting over his shoulder, sweat and blood dripping down his forehead as he stares, urgently waiting for his kid to reappear from where he had been tossed. The lights had flickered off in the back of the plane, leaving the passengers section dark, and for a second there's silence. Silence besides the screaming of the alarm, his rapid inhales, and the horrible grinding sound the plane was making from both engines and the mechanics underneath that were failing.

But there's still nothing. Tony feels like throwing up and he's shaking, breathing in short gasps. 

Then two bright eyes light up in the darkness and the arc reactor in the center of the suit gleams. The arms and legs whir as Peter grabs the sides of the doors and shoves himself back into the cockpit, the suit fully formed and gleaming bright red.

The helmet flips up and Peter is breathing hard, nose bleeding as he stares at his dad. "All good," he gulps out. 

Tony has no time to breath a sigh of relief or even take a look at his son who after all these years, is finally wearing his suit. And he can't even experience it, he can't tell him to stand still so he can get a good look, he can't tell him-

Peter's already handing him the communication earpiece on the side of the helmet, finger shaking as they brush against his palm. Tony slips it into his ear and tries the main line in desperation. It's blocked. Of course it is. 

"Jarvis, talk to me," he demands, knowing that it's connected with the suit. 

_"Sir, I seem to be locked out of all communication. And all access- Tony I'm completely-"_

Then nothing.

It's like they both just got hit over the head. Jarvis never cuts out. Ever. Something was very, very wrong, and the panic hit them both like a ruthless wave. The kind where you're already drowning and right when you come up for air it slams into you, dragging you down again so that water trickles down your throat when you try to scream. And just like that, Tony couldn't breathe.

Peter's eyes widen and he splutters, "Dad, where'd he go?" he shouts, pointing at the head piece, his feet shifting in fear. "Jarvis? Jarvis!" The boy's childhood friend, the person who always answered him, remained silent. And that rocked Peter to the core more than Tony realized it would. "Where did he go, dad?" Peter demands in horror. 

"I don't know. I don't know Pete," Tony mumbles, sweat sliding down his forehead and into his eye which stings. He blinks it away and runs his tongue over his chapped lips, sucking in a breath as he tries to connect with the A.I. again, one hand scrambling while the other strains on the handle he's pulling back with all his strength.

 _"Sir."_ It's coming from the suit. Tony turns around and Peter instinctively looks up. _"I seem to be only able to connect with this suit. Everything else is severed. If I try to break through I may lose contact."_

"Stay," Tony snaps immediately.

"Dad! We need to call for help-" Peter protests. 

"Pete, if that's our only help, we can't risk whoever did this getting a hold of Jarvis," he speaks bluntly, knowing that's the only way Peter will listen to him, if he knows the severity of the situation. "Without him that suit is as good as dead." And that's our only way off this plane, he thinks to himself. He doesn't say that, and he hopes that last sentence isn't running through his son's head as the boy purses his lips and nods in agreement. 

Tony turns back to face the window, exhaling shakily....he needs to think long term. And of course then, right then, it had to be then...he sees blue skies. New York comes into view, bursting through the clouds, wisps of white fleeting, the city becoming more and more clear, getting closer and closer. He's never hated it more. That feeling he wanted Peter to feel was here....but not like this though, he had never wanted it like this. 

"Oh my God," Peter whispers as he stares out the window, his voice cracking as he stumbles back and cries, "Oh my God, dad- dad! I- I-" No father should ever have to hear that voice come from a kid, or see those eyes. No one. No one-

"Peter, don't look at the window, look at me," Tony says, squeezing his eyes shut for a second to try and compose himself before he takes a deep breath. "Peter?" he calls again, begging his son to face him.

The young boy shakes his head, his hands hovering around his hair as if he wants to pull it out, or cover his mouth because he's about to sob or throw up, or all three and it kills Tony to watch. It kills him more to hear his cry of, "Dad- what are we gonna do, we have to-"

"Look at me kiddo," he says simply. 

"Dad-" the boy sobs horribly, a low one, from the bottom of his lungs wrenched all the way out by life's cruel fist. 

"Pete, hey, hey, bud. Here, just look at me," Tony insists loudly, as gently as he possible can, to the point where it's more like a plea than a command. Peter's horrified gaze, eyes welling with tears, locks with his.

Tony takes a breath and comforts him without speaking. His mind whirls. Find a solution.

Take the suit and grab Peter and jump out was an option. But the plane would crash right into the city. Killing millions. He had to guide it into the ground. They could get it close. Then make a run for it and try and fly out. No-

Something could go wrong. Something could always go wrong. He would be risking his son's life without Peter wearing the suit, especially making that jump with near seconds to spare. The strength needed to keep the compromised controls were making him sweat just by keeping it steady. It was like losing all steering power in a car. You had to yank it extra hard and one seconds worth of taking your hands off would send it careening the other way. Plus, just a degree off and he could hit the wing, or the engine, send them plummeting to the water below, taking the risk of burning them as well.

This plane needed to go down. But Peter could not be on it. He was flying it. And this plane needed to hit the ground.

Think Tony, think. Coney Beach. It had cons. But it had more pros. Pain was unavoidable. Peter would be fine. _He_ would be fine. Okay.

Solution found. 

"It's gonna be okay," he assures him, hating himself. Hating himself so much for putting this boy in this position. He wanted to rip every word that came out of his mouth into small pieces but he forced his face not to give that away. He made it steady, be assuring, his eyes locked with the kid he cared more about than anything in the world. "I've got a plan, it's gonna be fine," he tells him firmly. "But you have to trust me. Peter, I need you to trust me, kid. Please." 

"Yes- yes. Yes," Peter stutters, nodding violently to distinguish it from the shaking. "I trust you."

"This plane needs to go down," Tony says slowly, his voice calm. "I'm gonna stay on it-"

"No," the boy growls almost instantly.

Tony's gaze snaps up and breaks and he whispers, "Peter-"

"I said no!" the boy cries, tears starting to stream but it doesn't lessen the fire in his eyes in any way. "I'm not leaving you," Peter speaks between his teeth with more anger than he thought he had in him beneath his fear. "That's out of the question, think of something else." Stubborn, like his father. 

"Peter, we don't have another option," Tony tells him with a nod, forcing a smile, wishing his son was less like him. "The emergency door. With the suit you can open it, but it's gonna be heavy so you're gonna have to pull extra hard. Listen- listen to me, Peter!" he says insistently, because his son is already screwing up his face and he knows he isn't getting through. 

"No-" Peter shakes his head, taking a step back. "No. No, no, no-"

Tony twists in the chair, "Peter. Jarvis will help you fly, and I'm gonna guide the plane to the beach. I can't let this plane hit the city, you know that kid, you know that-"

"No, stop-" the boy snarls, eyes narrowed, tears glinting.

His father begs him, "Pete, please-"

"NO, STOP!" he shouts again in fury, his shoulders shuddering. 

"PETER ANTHONY STARK!" Tony yells in warning, because the boy had never shied away from his full name.

"I SAID NO!" Peter screams and his eyes flash with fury, anger heating in his chest, Tony can tell. He raises his palm and it heats up, making his father recoil. It doesn't fire, it just stays gleaming, Peter's face complete with streaks of tears and eyes that could pierce someone's heart. Tony looks sadly at the gauntlet and his son lowers it shakily, as if he was unsure what he was going to gain by that before he just sinks forward into Tony's shoulder, resting his head on his arm.

He's crying.

Tony trembles and reaches up with a hand to mess with his curled hair. "It's okay, Pete-"

"It's not okay. I won't," the boy whispers firmly, in a drastic change in volume, but somehow that voice crack is a million times worse than any yell Tony has ever heard. And he can tell Peter means it. "So figure something else out," his son seethes, tightening his grip on his arm, desperate to feel safe. 

Tony looks down at him helplessly, wasting precious seconds gladly. He hugs him to his chest, as close as he can with one arm, shaking. Peter wins this round. Tony nods finally as he sucks in a breath and glances out the window. Then he jostles his son and instructs, "Take my spot. Let me see what we have."

Relief floods the boy, he can tell, and he reaches to ruffle his hair again, Peter leaning into his touch, breathing somewhat normally again. He immediately switches spots with him, the extra strength from the suit allowing him to pull back with the force needed to steady the plane as Tony releases his hold on the handle and Peter takes over. The older Stark holds onto the sides of the walls as he makes his way into their seating area, searching for another option. 

Over and over in his head he's thinking he should have taken more time for this, he should have gone through that with more detail- but he knows he can't. They're plummeting towards the city, there's no time for anything. Life shattered the clock and made every second worth so much more. Every heartbeat he felt was time leaving, time he couldn't get back, time that was lost while they were in freefall in a plane with two engines that were on fire, completely useless-

There was no time to tell Peter he was proud of him, no time to even take a second to breathe, no time to waste on a panic attack, Tony, he tells himself. Because that was what was happening right now, wasn't it?

Driving his fingers through his hair roughly, he gulped down a breath, his eyes darting in panic as he clutched the tipped chairs to keep himself from collapsing. His lungs that had been tight for ages suddenly started to close even more. He staggered, hands clutched to his chest. No, no. Tony shook his head, blinking hard as if telling himself no would just solve the problem. He didn't have time for this problem. There was a bigger problem.

His vision swam, and he stopped with a sharp inhale, putting a hand to his head, begging his knees not to buckle. There's a sharp pain going down his spine from just standing. Tony slams his palms into his head and shouts, "Peter? Talk to me."

His son knows immediately.

"Just look for anything that you can think of, dad. You're a mechanic, right?" Peter says from the cockpit, with a firmness no kid should have at his age. No kid should have to be in this situation, but he was and it had to be Peter-

"Yes," Tony shouts back, coughing as he chokes on a desperate inhale. He stared straight in the shaking plane, his vision going in and out of focus. There was a growing lump in his throat, his head was pounding, his hearing was muffled, and there was a high pitched ringing in his ears. But Peter's voice broke through it all, like it always did.

"So this is just a broken machine. You told me to treat every problem like a broken machine. Think of what you need to accomplish."

"What I need to-" Tony nods, repeating his son, his cheeks flushed red. He nods. "Just a machine."

"Fix the machine dad. You're a mechanic," Peter says simply, as if he was just shrugging his arms and staring at him with a confident smile, not as if he was alone in a cockpit trying to calm down the great Tony Stark so he can figure out a way to save his son he had put in danger.

His eyes fluttered and Tony tensed, trying to suck in as much of a breath as he could. And then it all spirals back. "I'm a mechanic," he breaths. Fix the problem. Find a way. "Thanks kid," he breaths in thought before he moves forward, senses sharpened. The pain in his chest in gone. The world is still falling around him, but he's come to terms with that. Peter wouldn't leave him willingly or knowingly, he came to terms with that as well. 

He needs a plan, another plan, that can fix things. So that he can find a way- 

Parachutes. The plane always had them in the back, under the last seat. Hope flutters at the bottom of Pandora's box, something he thought was dead. Tony travels down the isle faster than he thought was possible, tripping over the objects scattered across the floor. He kneels by the last seat and slowly pushes it up with shaking and bloodied hands. His face freezes and his fingers hover above the parachutes.

His heart is pounding.

He stares at his findings with a wave of emotions. 

Then he hears Peter call from the cockpit, "Dad! You okay?"

He had found a way.

It nearly pulls a sob from his throat. Don't let your voice crack, he thinks, refusing to let his emotions compromise him anymore. They were too close. He had found a way. 

"Yeah!" he shouts back. Tony ducks his head, eyes stinging, and he puts a fist to his mouth. Then, with a deep breath, he picks up one of the packs and turns it over, inspecting the other side and smoothing out the fabric before he stumbles back, grabbing the doorway and holding up his prize. 

"What's that?" Peter demands, twisting in his chair to look at him, desperate for eye contact, desperate for hope. "Parachute," he breaths as he stares at it.

"Plan B," Tony tells him confidently with a smile, watching as his son's gaze travels to the pack and his face lightens. "You wanted one of those you said?" he smirks knowingly.

Peter smiles. 

He had found a way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how much do yall hate me? Wow that much. Dang. Okay. So a lotttt happened and i again dont want to go much into it because what i ended up doing was writing into the next chapter and i was so conflicted on where to put the break so yeah XD but i just shoved yall into the deep end didnt i?  
> New chapter coming sooooonnnnnn- i find i always write chapters faster when i like have a feverish need to write them which i do in this case so im hoping it takes less time, sorry this one was pushing it. I hope you all liked it tho, id love to hear theories, reactions, threats XD in the comments. teehee  
> Ahhhhh tmrw is wednesday....half way through the week!!! Ahhh thank God i am dying XD  
> Daily reminder that coffee is good! And another daily reminder that you all are amazing <3  
> Take care, stay healthy, stay tuned which i hopefully dont have to say because if i wrote this right yall should be on the edge of your seats, and i will see you very soon for the next chapter!!!  
> And ofc  
> as always  
> I love you all 3000 :)


	12. Impact

Many years ago, Pepper was the one to drop Peter off at his kindergarten. One parent alone was able to, because the security staff figured no one would be really looking at parents when their main focus was on their kids. Tony couldn't go, because Happy and the rest of his security detail, that mostly stayed in the shadows, thought it would be too risky. He had smiled and nodded like he understood, but Pepper knew he was upset. That's why she promised him, staring deep into those eyes that were so determined to hide the pain he was feeling, that she would experience it for the both of them. 

Sunglasses flashing from the fleeting sun as they entered through the doorway, she held Peter's hand as they walked into the school, everyone around them distracted, unaware of the CEO of the most powerful industry in the world and her secret son walking by them. Her fiery red hair was tucked into her hat and she was wearing light blue jeans and a white blouse. Civilians wear, they called it, and it always seemed to turn them invisible to the public eye. No one really knew how but they found comfort in the fleeting normalcy. Peter's fingers clenched around her palm tightly as he stared around in wonder, a grin on his face, eyes wide and gleaming. She had never seen him so happy. 

Why was it that with every milestone, she and Tony were always separate? First his birth, now this, and it wasn't the last time. Still, she maintained the smile due to the giddiness being displayed by her son who was tugging gently as they walked forward. Through the back windows, sunlight streaming in, she saw a colorful playground, kids running around, a boy spinning around on the swings, one girl by the sand pit, staring intently as she drew in the mounds of yellow with a stick. Inside there were tables and bins of toys, a couple kids already making friends and playing. The one kid turned his wrist, nosediving the small toy plane into the ground with trilled lips, his other friend rolling a truck back and forth on the carpeted floor. 

"Mommy- mom- can I go?" Peter pleaded with big brown eyes. 

Happy, who had come in behind her, lowered the hand that was on his ear and let his arm fall to his side. The perimeter was clear and Peter's teacher had been prepped. Pepper knelt with a deep breath, gently muttering her son's name to try and draw him back to get his attention. "You have fun, okay honey?" she said, cupping his cheek and leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead, swiping some of his curls away. "And I want to hear all about it when you get home."

His face lit up as he had just thought of all the stories he was going to tell. He nodded and threw her arms around her and Pepper held him tightly in a strong embrace, palm gently carding through his hair. He was so young, and he was going to grow up too fast, she knew that. "I love you mommy," he whispered with a giggle, already pulling away slowly so he could be cut loose into the world they were sending him into. 

"I love you too," Pepper called after him as he ran for the outside, dropping his bag off in his cubby that he had found with his faked name on it: Peter Hogan. Some kids cried and would not allow their hands to be pried from their mother's arms. Not Peter. Peter ran in wonder and anticipation, smile forming on his face. And some kids didn't look back after they ran off, forgetting their family behind in the midst of all the chaos and noise. Not Peter. He turned and gave him mom one last smile before he ran off, Pepper slowly getting to her feet in the hallway. 

"You okay?" she felt a hand at her shoulder and she rubbed Happy's wrist with affection, nodding slowly before she exhaled and gave him a small smile. "It's okay to cry," Happy teased her slightly as they watched Peter make his way around the playground through the small glimpse of it they could see through the propped open door, the sun gleaming against the floor almost too bright to look at. 

She turned with glossy eyes but that was the extent as she patted Happy on the chest, turning to walk to out of the building. The handle was cold on the door because it had been cracked open for so long. Wind blew as she crossed the street to where they had parked. She opened the back door and slid into the seat, the silence in the empty car deafening. Pepper leaned back, her head against the smooth leather. She took comfort in picturing the brown eyes of her son that reminded her so much of her husband. The tears finally came when she was alone. 

"Okay, we're gonna have to wait until we get lower. You see that beach down there? That's Coney Beach. That's where we're aiming," Tony says firmly as he twists the handles. Peter is over his shoulder, still dressed in the Iron Man suit, staring through the glass. Tony gets chills whenever he looks at his son. It's fear, it's pride, and the most overwhelming sadness he's ever felt. 

The young boy's eyes find the crash landing site and he nods. Tony's hands are clenched, his heart his pounding. He had found a way. Licking his lips to try and moist them, grasping his voice and holding it tight, he makes out, "Walk me through it again, Pete."

"When we get low enough, I go to the back, I rip off the emergency door," Peter says, his voice scary level. He still stutters a bit though, and Tony is twistedly thankful he's at least slightly shaken by all this. It meant hadn't been a total failure of a parent. "I- and- y-you're sure I'll be able to do it?" Peter asks nervously. "Because in terms of the laws of physics it's impossible for a human to open the door mid flight."

Tony nods and then gives him the best smirk he can manage, "Luckily, I bend physics rules all the time and you have an Iron Man suit so you're not exactly human. You'll be fine. Blast the center, not the lock. The lock is the thickest part, you want to cripple it in the center," Tony informed him, trying to make it sound like this was just another day in a lab. Peter always took well to instructions, but they were not in the lab, and this was not some routine checkup.

He could see the kid's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He felt bad about shoving all this information down his throat, but he needs him to be prepared. "And don't let the pulse throw you off your feet, understand?" Tony asks, risking a glance to his son to make sure this is all processing. It has to process. 

"O-Okay. Got it," Peter whispers, his gaze not tearing from the dash. 

"And then what," Tony prompts quickly, not wasting time. 

"And then I fly out," Peter says in a quieter voice. 

When he doesn't continue, Tony fills the silence, "And you're careful of the wing and engine-"

"And I'm careful of the wing and engine," Peter repeats, before his gaze shifts. "Then you hit the stabilization button," Peter points to the blinking yellow one next to the cracked one that's light had flickered out a while ago. "That will keep the plane on course without reverting to it's main destination so it can crash on the beach and you'll follow me with the parachute-" The boy sees it resting on the other seat and he goes to reach for it, Tony's gaze snapping sideways in a panic. Do something. The older Stark manually raises the stakes of the situation to divert all focus to the handles.He tears his grip off of the controls and grabs his arm.

"Peter, help me pull up, now," he shouts quickly and the boy's arm recoils from the pack as he turns and moves to his father's side, hands clasped above Tony's to try and wrestle the plane into submission. 

"Aim for land, but if you hit water, don't panic," he gasps out with a nod. "Jarvis will be with you the entire time. Whatever you do, get to that beach, you understand me?" Tony says seriously, looking up at the boy whose dark curls are falling in front of his wide eyes. The boy's face is glistened with sweat and tears, and a daunting look is on his face, an expression that didn't belong. 

"Peter," Tony says quietly, because his son needs to know what to do. He found a way. He had to make sure this worked, otherwise it was all for nothing. 

"Yeah, yes." His father can see his eyes sharpen as Peter shakes his head a bit as if to toss some bad thoughts out.

"Promise me," Tony insists.

The kid winces. And that wince makes a chill run down his father's spine. But then the young Stark straightens and nods, lifting his chin, taking a shuddery breath, "I promise."

The alarms and the shaking of the jet are just a constant high pitch now, even though it's just as deafening and rattling as it was when the first engine failed. Sweat trickles down the side of Tony's face; underneath his veins he feels fire, like it's crawling around and taunting him. He just wants to wake up from this nightmare, but in nightmares he's panicked, he's unable to focus, he doesn't know what to do except thrash and scream. Here he's calm, and he's not scared. That's how he knows it's real.

"I guess I wasn't kidding when I told your mom you were gonna be jump out of the plane," the older Stark realized with a smirk, a true example of humor as a coping mechanism.

Peter cracks a smile and let's out a sort of half gasp, which Tony supposes is the closest thing to a chuckle that either of them can muster. Tony smiles then, his only accompanying sounds being the rattling of the dying aircraft. He's glad he got to see that smile and it makes his eyes spark. "Hey kid," he whispers and Peter looks at him. They lock eyes, speaking a million words. "What was your uno card?" he asks gently.

Peter nearly sobs this time and he shakes his head with a spreading smile, announcing, "I'll tell you when we're on the beach."

"Deal," Tony manages to choke out. Then he's desperate for something to focus on, right now. He announces, "Okay, Pete. It's time."

"Okay," his son nods, and Tony remembers how he had been thankful for the suit that made it impossible to tell if someone was shaking. Peter probably felt the same. If you wear a mask and a suit, no one can see your face to know you're scared, or know that you're clenching your fists so hard they draw blood. He wrapped himself in a suit of armor but physically and metaphorically, but still his worst nightmare came true because it was happening to the one person that meant more to him than anyone.

The boy turns as the helmet begins to come up, and in that moment, Tony's entire chest tightens. He stares at his son until his body screams at him to move forward because he knows-

"Come here." With one hand holding the handles for all he's worth, he stands and grabs Peter's shoulder, pulling him tightly into his chest with one arm. The boy returns the hug nearly instantly, making them rock back slightly. It takes everything Tony has in him to keep his hand steady as he ruffles through the top of his curls and holds his head to his chest. Peter's breathing deeply as if trying to calm himself down, hands clenched tightly around his father, eyes squeezed shut.

It's a three second hug, if that, but they make it last a lifetime. Nevertheless, it ends far too quickly. Tony wraps his arm around him tighter than he has in his entire life, holding his breath so to not show his cards, and pulls away an instant later. And as they move apart, Tony blinks the tears from his eyes and reaches to clasp his cheek, planting a kiss on his head, right into the mop of hair. "It's gonna be fine, you know that right?"

"Yeah," Peter tells him. Either he's lying to protect his father or he believes that. Tony doesn't know which one is worse. He stares into those eyes that are so painfully similar to his own, and gives his son a firm nod before tossing his chin. 

"Go. Blast the door, and I'll be right behind you, kiddo," Tony insists. 

Peter stares.

It takes Tony a minute to figure out what's he's doing, but once he does, he's on full alert.

The boy is searching his eyes. Smart kid.

Tony holds his gaze, and prays to a God if there is one. It's the second time in his life he's done that. Once in the cave in Afghanistan, and now here. Maybe someone was listening because Peter's expression crumples with relief and trust and he nods. Tony knows his son won't leave him knowingly. Peter turns and makes his way down the isle towards the door, satisfied, because that parachute was still laying on the seat, and since they had that, there was a way out. As long as there was a way out, he knew Tony would take it. And that was good enough for him. 

The suit is gleaming in the dark plane, and Tony looks over his shoulder, seeing his son silhouetted in the bouncing light streaming from all the windows. The helmet comes down, and the eyes and arc reactor gleam brightly. Peter raises his palm and tightens his grip on the wall, digging his feet in, no doubt engaging the stabilizers. A natural, just like his father. 

Despite the grinding sounds coming from the failing engines, the roar of alarms, and every other sound in existence that is pummeling his ears, he can still make out the high pitched whir from the gauntlet, and the jet jolts as Peter blasts the door open, the recoil making him shift once and only once. He had done it though, and the plane rocked from the sudden change in air pressure. Tony curses as he keeps it stable, already feeling the pulling sensation backwards as the air is rushed and pulled in every direction. He turns in his chair, shouting, "Pete! You good?"

"Good!"

The loud yell is faint with the howling of the wind, and Tony's eyes sting from the gusts. He slips in the coms earpiece he had kept in his pocket for safe keeping. "Peter, can you hear me?" he asks slowly.

 _"Yes! Yes, I can. Hurry up, dad."_ He's pleading. Tony's painfully reminded of so many uses of that tone, like when he came in and had a nightmare when he was five, when he- 

Your son is expecting an answer.

"I know, I'll- I'll be right behind you, kid," he tells him, wrestling with a sad smile. His voice is soft. He's so glad he can't see Peter's face, in some twisted way. But the boy's shout is filled with fear and confusion.

_"Okay! We're at the altitude- get ready! Get the parachute!"_

Tony doesn't turn around at that moment, and although it kills him, he doesn't regret it. Because this time he can't hide anything. He had used up all of his energy to deceive Peter during the staring contest. He had used the last bit of his will to lie to his son. He has never hated himself more than he hated now. 

"I will," he says again, tone calm, as tears build in his eyes and he readjusts his grip on the handles. "I've got it right here next to me," he swallows, looking sideways at it on the seat. He smiles sadly to try and force himself to keep up the charade. And now for the moment of truth. He has to make it look real. Peter won't leave unless he sees him coming. 

Tony unhooks himself, wrestling with the seatbelt, allowing a millisecond for composure, reassuring himself that he's far enough away that Peter can't see his eyes. The minute he takes his hands off of the jet it tilts sideways, changing course for the tower with no one to correct it. He grabs the parachute and pulls it on his back and over his shoulders, strapping it around to the front of his chest with trembling fingers that are bleeding, making them slick.

 _"Hit the button!"_ Peter screams into his ear.

The yellow blinking button is waiting.

Tony raises his hand and moves it forward but pushes nothing. "Just did," he chokes out in response. The blinking yellow button was not the stabilization button, it was the alert that the landing gear could not be engaged. The cracked and dead one was the stabilization button, but Peter didn't know that.

So many lies.

And that wasn't even the worst one.

Tony has got a minute, maybe- thirty seconds is more like it- to correct the plane's course, because now with no one flying the jet, it's headed for the tower like it always had been. With no landing gear, it would kill thousands if it crashed anywhere else but the beach. And something in this plane was rigging it to head for the city, unless he turned it away. Deep down he knew it had something to do with whoever was behind that voice modulator. But he couldn't think about that right now.

Tony grabs both sides of the door and faces his son who's at the end of the isle. The wind is howling inside the plane and Tony forces a smile on his face. 

Twenty seconds. 

"Peter!" he calls quietly, knowing the earpiece will pick him up. His son looks to him as he starts to make his way forward. "Go." The boy sees him coming, he knows he's coming because he saw it in his eyes before. Tony said he had found a way. 

"I love you," his father whispers, hands clenched on the chair as he cries out, "Peter, I love you so much."

_"I love you too- dad, please, we have to go!"_

The poor boy doesn't understand. He doesn't get it. And that's a good thing, Tony thinks. Thirteen seconds.

"Yes. _You_ do," he nods, tears pricking his eyes. "I'm so proud of you kiddo. And I'm so sorry," Tony says even quieter, a sob scratching at the walls of his throat. His knuckles are white and he swallows. And the most horrible thing happens.

Peter understands. Or at least he begins to; something registers within the small boy; Tony can see it in his body language as he starts to step backward, stuttering a plead, but his father sadly shakes his head and whispers, "Jarvis, get him out of here."

It's the worst thing he's ever had to do. And how many people has he killed? 

_"Yes sir."_

The suit turns forcefully on it's own and suddenly the boosters are kicking in and it shoots out of the hole of the plane like a bullet before Peter can do anything to stop it. The scream his son lets out on coms-

But he's gone before Tony can even suck in a breath. It happened so fast he didn't even blink. 

And-

And then the connection is lost. But that scream that had been ruthlessly torn and cut short haunts him. Tony thinks he screamed 'no'. Or maybe 'dad'. He didn't know which one hurt his heart more. He feels it was just ripped from his chest. His breath leaves him and Tony's legs grow weak as he registers what had happened. Inside he's screaming, wanting to just crumple to the floor.

Peter was gone. Correction: Peter was safe. 

Six seconds. 

Tony has no time to be shocked, to realize he had just heard the last thing from his only son. To process the fact that he had had his last hug, he had seen that last look of those brown eyes, that last smile...

No time to register what had just occurred, and what was happening now. No time for regretting, for feeling guilty. He had registered that a while ago, he had been preparing ever since he had knelt and saw those parachutes. He had known what he had to do, but that didn't make it any less painful or jarring.

His conscious betrays him, yelling- screaming at him to snap out of this. There was no time. He had to put the fact that he was alone on a plane with no engines above everything else. Because it was headed for the city. All he knew was that he had five seconds to get back to that cockpit and his legs were already moving, maybe they had been for a while because he was already making it there, wrenching himself forward until the fell into the seat with a gasp.

One second. 

His hands curl around the handle.

He yanked it with all he was worth and the plane tilts, Tony letting out a yell as sweat beads on his forehead and his knuckles turn pale white. It's pulling back against him, he can feel the plane pulsing beneath him, and his muscles strain, head tilted back, teeth grit as he turns, feeling the jet bend to his will. And suddenly the beach is in his sights again and all Tony feels in relief. He breathes. 

In. 

Out.

It's shaky, and his ribs are aching, but it's a breath. He savors it. There's a beauty behind it. Now the pain comes, but it's not as much as he thinks. It's one last favor from his body, allowing him to control it, hold it back for just a couple more minutes, that's all. 

"Call Stark Industries. Pepper Potts. Try all lines, call everyone you can," he whispers as he maintains his grip, watching the plane descend rapidly towards the beach. 

The parachute is still on his back. He has no time to take it off. Oh, the parachute. Peter had been right. If there was a way out, he would have taken it. But there wasn't. 

The parachute had a massive rip down the center. 

When he knelt down and opened the seat a while ago, the torn fabric was displayed right in front of him, a massive slash right through it, deeming it useless. But on the other side, it appeared smooth, untouched. Then it became the most valuable thing in the world. So he had bit his lip and he accepted his fate nearly instantly. That was the side he showed Peter, hiding the rip, and that was why he prevented him from touching it. But now as he tossed it, the massive tear was displayed for all to see...yet there was no one else to see it. 

That parachute had been hope in Pandora's box. In some ways it was dead. But in other ways, it was the only source of life. Make Peter believe he had a way out, make him believe it could be done. Play off of the trust he had built up with that boy since birth. God, life was cruel. 

Because he had found a way. No matter how much it cost.

Whatever it took. 

And now the plane was hurtling towards the beach, and Tony couldn't help but think about Peter, about Pepper, about Rhodey, about everyone he was leaving behind. Some people are maybe curious about what their last thought will be. Those thoughts that you can't help but wonder but that scare you all the same.

Tony Stark was not one of those people. Not because he had never thought about it, but because he already knew. He had nearly died many times, meaning he knew which memories would pop up, which they did, in a span of a second. And then it was like fate took their hands off the wheel. He guessed he had hit the limit for near death experiences. Maybe that's why all of his 'last moments' thoughts had happened so quickly.

Now even fate had left him. He was truly alone. His mind was spinning, not focused like it usually was. But with each passing second, his stress left him, his eyes that were wide, soon eased. Each time this had happened, whenever he had come close to dying, he had come out the other side, but this time....

This time wasn't like other times. This time there was an odd feeling in his stomach, one that twisted his insides into a knot and left him queasy. Because he had cheated death so many times, and this time fate had had enough. He was out of cards, he had no more hands to play, and he had made his last bluff.

But he was twistedly okay with that. The tears stayed where they were. And there was a small smile on the face of Tony Stark. Even as the plane rattled. Even as the beach got closer. Peter was safe. Although that built up a sob in his throat, if he had to die, then he was okay with it being to save his son. He had finally found peace. 

And then fate decided to slam a damn fist right into his face.

The kind of cheap shot in boxing that could get you disqualified. 

_"Tony?"_

He sits up straighter in the chair, immediately recognizing the voice. Relief flooded through his veins, and he tapped into the com link. "Obie! Obie!" he shouted joyfully over the roaring of the wind. He laughed out loud, and a smile spread across his face as he shouted, "I can hear you! Listen to me-"

_"Tony? What's wrong? I can barely hear you!"_

"The- the, the, the plane!" he splutters out, a renewed energy instilled inside him. "It lost both engines, I'm hurtling towards he beach right now, I've got minutes, if that! Send a suit now, I'm locked out of everything, you're the only one I can reach!" he shouts. Hope is so close it's teasing him, it's toying with him.

 _"Oh my God- is Peter with you?"_ Obadiah demands, eyes wide. 

Tony gasps and shakes his head even though he's only talking through a phone and the man can't see him. Relief just took control of his limbs and voice, "No- I got him out. I put him in the Iron Man suit he's flying towards the beach as we speak-" he groans as he pulls up harder on the handles that begin to tremble as they descend faster. "But I couldn't make it out. Obie, send me a damn suit! Help me!"

 _"Help you! Yes, of course, right away."_ Obadiah sighs and puts his feet up on the desk. And then he waits.

A precious second withers and dies.

A heartbeat. It skips.

Somehow there's silence. Tony feels like he's going to throw up as it all clicks, like a jigsaw puzzle, in his mind. And God he wishes the pieces stayed seperate.

There's a horrible taste in his mouth.

 _"Congratulations, my old friend, you've figured it out,"_ he taunts, moving his finger around on the edge of the coffee mug, a smile playing on his face.

Tony can't breathe. He's staring straight ahead as the world flies past him. His muscles are clenched and his eyes are wide. Obadiah sighs loudly and chuckles, " _Yes, it was me."_ Then he lets out a loud laugh. Years- literal years- of tension and stress just slide off his shoulders and he's able to full his lungs with air that has never tasted so sweet. _"God, it feels so good to finally say_ _it!"_

They're pummeling towards the beach and Tony is shaking, but not because of the falling plane. The older man sighs with a loud confession over the phone, _"You don't know how many years I've waited for this moment. Trying to get rid of you should have been easy enough, I mean, for the love of God, I gave you over to terrorists, figured that would do it."_

"You," Tony whispers in disbelief. Staring into that video camera tied to a chair, staring at the blinking red light that taunted him, that had been Obie's doing, and everything after that. The man who he had trusted, the man who had been there for him when Howard never was, who he had trusted with his life, with Pepper's life...Peter's life.

He had left Peter alone with him more times then he could count. Tony's insides churn and there's a horrible taste in his mouth at that realization. How many times had that bastard been left alone with his kid? With Pepper? Ruffled his son's hair? Hugged his wife? He isn't able to form anymore words, and no sound comes out when he opens his mouth.

 _"Tony Stark speechless, that's a new one,"_ Obadiah says, waiting slyly for any type of response. He's spinning a pen between his fingers, his tie loosened as he leans back in his chair. It's like he's congratulating himself. _"Yeah, well you went ahead and gave me access to the entire system the day I suggested the vacation, all with some well placed words to that wonderful kid of yours."_

"Don't talk about Peter," Tony snarls quietly. It's the only thing he's able to get out.

Obadiah snickers, _"Protective. I was counting on that actually!"_ He puts his feet down and leans forward excitedly, rubbing his chin and explaining, _"I knew you'd give your life to save that brat. And I knew you'd take the vacation with him...sorry I spoiled the father son time. T_ _hen it was all about some laced food for the pilots, perfectly timed, I've got to give myself that, and basically full control of the plane. Jarvis is...dormant, at the minute. And he will be until I decide to use him later. And the ripped parachute! Wasn't that a nice touch?"_

Tony doesn't answer, he's too sick to his stomach, thoughts whirling from all the times he shared with the closest person he had to family growing up. Everything is spinning. His entire world was ruthlessly turned inside out.

 _"I'm being rude,"_ Obadiah confesses as he clears his throat and he shifts positions. It's then that Tony hears a squeak of a chair he knows all too well and his heart thuds to the bottom of his chest when he realizes his mentor is sitting in his chair in his office. _"You have to excuse me, it's just...you have no idea how long I've waited for this, Tony."_ The man giggles, his hand excitedly falling to his knee after he lifts his palm.

"You son of a bitch," Tony whispers. There's a pound of emotion all poured into those five words. This has to be an hallucination, his brain trying to make up a solution for what everything happened the way it just had-

 _"Yes, well, I guess an insult from a dead man breathing doesn't sting as much as I thought it would,"_ Obadiah winces ruthlessly, lip curling slightly. He sinks back into the chair and sniffs, casually scratching his nose, pulling the phone away from his ear a little bit with an annoyed frown. The alarms and the howling of the wind are too loud from the speaker. He turns down the volume and continues, " _You should have listened to me, Tony. Appreciated me more. I never got any thank you's._ _All those years ago."_

"That's what this is about?" Tony shouts, the words forced out of his throat as he chokes. "Shit, Obadiah, you want to kill me because you never got a damn thank you card?" the Stark demands. It's not panic rushing through his veins, making the adrenaline kick in, making him tremble. It's pure rage. White hot fury. 

_"No, no that's not all,"_ Obadiah corrects. He frowns and scratches absentmindedly at the side of the desk. _"It's about ruining our company, stripping me from power and shoving me to the back of the line when you handed over SI to your girlfriend, and now your kid-"_

"You stay away from Peter," he growls instantly. His eyes flash red and venom drips from his words. "And you stay away from Pepper. Don't you touch them. You stay the _hell_ away from my family Obadiah, do you understand me?" Tony shouts, his voice ripping through the wind and making his years ring. His breath gets caught in his tight chest and for a second he forgets that he's getting near the beach. Because he's scared. For his son. For his wife. For his world. 

_"Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think you're in the position to be making threats here,"_ Obadiah says slowly with a shrug, sipping on the coffee that had just gotten cool enough to drink. He swallows and makes a face, _"After all, you are hanging off the edge of the cliff and God, Tony,"_ he closes his eyes and savors this moment, _"It feels so good to step on your hands."_

"You really hate me that much?" Tony gasps out, his heart being twisted and dug into by the tip of a blunt knife, just so it hurts more. He shakes his head and exclaims, "We're family- you were the one who was there for me when my dad-" 

_"When you play the part for so long, it sometimes...bleeds,"_ Obadiah rubs his fingers to find the right word before settling on it. His head drops to his chest and he admits, _"I'm sorry if I deceived you into thinking I ever cared, Tony. If I'm being honest, you never really meant anything to me. It's nothing personal! I swear, it's simply business. It happens all the time,"_ Obadiah tells him, as if he's consoling a boy who dropped his ice cream. _"People stabbing each other in the back for power. The problem is that you just wouldn't get out of the way, so I had to take that metaphor and turn it literal. Because you, Tony Stark, you just won't die. And it really got on my nerves."_

There's silence. Obadiah checks his watch and chuckles. _"Well it looks like we're just about out of time."_

He's right. 

The plane is diving towards the beach.

Tony's eyes are wide and pained, stinging with tears. Every breath hurts as he whispers, "You bastard if you so much as touch them-"

 _"I'll leave you too it, old friend,"_ Obadiah says cheerfully before he leans forward and straightens himself. This moment has been everything for the past million years it seems and it's finally hear. He whispers into the speaker, the words dancing cruelly off his tongue, _"Long live Tony Stark."_

"You leave my FAMILY AL-" Tony screams. But Obadiah has hung up.

Tony stares. 

He gasps.

He's shaking.

For a second he doesn't do anything. Then he realizes there's nothing he can do. But there's not enough strength for him to have a panic attack because he knows Peter is still alive, Pepper is still alive, and that they're in danger. There is no strength he can muster and there's no time. He tries to process but it's like his brain knows there's no use. He thinks of his wife, of his son, of his best friend, of his family, his team-

It all releases in one single tear that trickles down out of the corner of his eye, down his cheek and over his chin. All of it. His will to live was in that tear. And it was already gone.

Then as the plane tilts down and a horrible sound is let out from the engine that gives out, the back dropping as it pummels for the beach, he unclenches his fingers from the handles. They're trembling and stiff and bloody as they fall to his sides. He's breathing hard, in shock, unable to think as he leans back in his chair and squeezes his eyes shut. Is this what it feels like to die? Or was this a nightmare?

In his nightmares whenever he died he would wake up. That was always the comfort. The pain would get worse, and everything would speed up, crash in all at once. And that's when he knew it was coming. When everything went wrong. When everything seemed hopeless, and he had finally accepted his fate, he would die. And then he would wake up and realize it had all just been a bad dream. But first he had to die. There had to be nothing. Endless nothing.

Just nothing. And then he'd open his eyes. 

Just nothing. And then he'd suck in a breath. 

Just nothing. And then he would kiss Pepper and hug Peter just like he did whenever he had a rough night. 

He takes shaky breath, dangerously calm as the collision happens. The beach makes contact. And then he doesn't think of anything at all. 

Just nothing. 

Endless nothing. 

And then...

Still nothing.

Obadiah had delicately hung up the call before letting the phone rest on the table. He then puts his feet up and sighs. Minutes later, he gets the alert of the crash. All systems compromised. He shudders, as if he can feel the impact of the plane from the other side of the country, and he breathes deeply through his nose. 

There's one last thing he needs to do. But before he can, his phone rings and he drops it on the table and nearly falls out of his chair. He scrambles back in horror as he stares at the name. 

"No," he whispers in a low growl. Impossible. "NO!" he yells, before he slams his finger down on the call button and is about to yell into the phone before he suddenly stops. There's sobbing coming from the other line and he holds his tongue, tasting blood as he bites it quickly. 

_"Obie! Obadiah! Hello!"_

The name said Tony Stark.

But this was Peter. 

Obadiah rolls his eyes and his jaw clenches. But then he stops. Maybe this is good. Maybe he could cripple the boy first, make his man from OSCORP's job easier. How would you run from someone if you're already trying to run from yourself. Peter would never suspect him either, not with this much trauma in play, not by the tone of his voice. So Obadiah slaps on the fake and caring tone that he had perfected over the years one last time. 

"Peter? Peter is that you?" he asks, pretending to be surprised and confused. He hadn't realized that in leaving this line open he had risked the boy hearing him. Thank God he called after rather than before while on the phone with his father. 

_"Yes! Yes! Obie you-"_ the boy sobs, gulping down his words as he cries, _"you said if I needed anything I could call you-"_

"That's right," Obadiah says gently, his blood boiling. Anyone with an ounce of humanity would be affected by the pain and fear in the boy's voice. So broken, so desperate, so...empty. That's why he was able to keep a straight face. There was no humanity left. The shell of a man is unphased by the sheer agony in the child's voice.

And Peter completely breaks down. _"The plane...it crashed. The engines. My dad never got out and now he- he won't wake up. He won't WAKE UP! Dad, PLEASE!"_

Obadiah pauses, simply for dramatic effect and then whispers, "Peter...what have you done?"

The boy is crying, his words coming out through pleads and choked cries: _"He_ _tried to save me- it was an accident, I- I didn't mean for this to happen- dad, wake up- please Obie- you have to help me! Dad,"_ he sobs, and then back into the call, _"I didn't mean-"_

"Of course, of course you didn't," he consoles him while rubbing his head that has a slight itch. "No one... ever means for these things to happen. Is he breathing?"

_"N-no. No. Obie-"_

"Then he's gone, Peter," he says simply. His tone his gentle and kind, but his words are chilling and heartless. "And if he wasn't on that plane, he'd still be alive. Why did you leave him? You left him on the plane to die?" he demands, voice coated with mock regret and despair.

 _"I- I-"_ Peter gulps through his stutters, and Obadiah can practically feel the guilt creeping into the boy's soul. Peter is struggling to even breath, still murmuring under his breath begging his father to wake up, and it's then that he realizes the boy is next to Tony Stark at that instant.

"Oh! Your mother...she'll be so crushed," he says sadly, finding another weak spot to pick at, voice loud enough that Peter can hear him. 

Peter let's out a strangled sound that nearly made him flinch. Yes, even Obadiah almost flinched. The boy sobs loudly and protests, _"You- you don't understand. Someone did this. Someone hacked the plane to kill him-"_

"Peter, Peter, I don't think it was just him," Obadiah says slowly. "I think it was you too. You're the heir to Stark Industries. You might have been the target as well!" he gasps, putting a hand to his mouth. "If only you had gotten him off the plane..."

The boy is crying, but his voice is laced with shock. His voice wavers as he demands, _"I- I didn't know- he just- and the suit- I don't know what to do. He can't be-"_

"He's dead, Peter," he says darkly, almost instantly. He may have snapped that too hard, but the young Stark doesn't make the connection. He just stops mid sentence. There's delicious silence. 

_"What do I do? Obie, please, tell me what to do,"_ the boy pleads quietly, as if his entire world had just withered around him and he had no other cards to play. No child should ever have the voice that Peter has, layered with so much pain, so much sadness and terror. _"I need to come home-"_ he whimpers.

"No!" Obadiah shakes his head and he hears the sob cut off half way. "Peter you can't come home. You poor thing, you killed your own father-"

 _"I didn't-"_ Peter shrieks.

"He's dead, Peter," Obadiah insists firmly. "And whoever did this, they'll find out you're alive. They may even try and kill your mom if you come back. But she won't be a threat to the company if she thinks you both are gone. She will hand it off and stay safe. She'll be _safe_ , Peter. You wouldn't want your mother killed too, would you?" he urges cruelly. 

_"No-"_ Peter cries desperately, _"but- then- Obadiah,"_ he sniffs and chokes out, an octave higher than usual, dripping with a sob, _"please- just tell me what to do."_

"Run away," Obadiah taunts. "Peter, run as far away as you can," he says passionately. "Change. Forget who you are. And don't ever come back," he cuts off with a harsh whisper.

The boy is broken. Shattered. He doesn't even acknowledge Obadiah's suggestion. He just does what he's told. He runs, the call shutting off. Obadiah smiles triumphantly, and he picks up his phone and makes another call. 

"You have visual?" he asks casually. 

_"Closing in now."_

"Good," he nods, before he waits one second. "Kill him." It would all be blamed on the crash. Bullets would be an obvious foul play, but fire? The man was armed with what he needed to make this all look like an accident.

Obadiah shuts off his phone and takes a deep breath. A smile filled with relief slowly bleeds onto his face. He looks down at the desk which has the metal name plate, perfectly center. Obadiah reaches forward in distaste and pushes it under it's teetering off the edge. With a grin he flicks it and it topples, landing on the floor, the name TONY STARK now in the darkness of the shadow on the floor, the sunlight unable to reach it. Then Obadiah leans back into the chair and closes his eyes. Now he can truly rest.

"You- you okay?" This time Happy's hand on her shoulder was numb. And the man himself who asked was not okay. None of them were. 

Silence filled the room to the brim, to the point where it was overflowing. Pepper stared. She didn't know how she was still standing. Not with the eyes on her. Not with the reactions of everyone around her. Not with how she was feeling. Not with what she had just been told, that sucked the air from her lungs. Everything inside her felt like it had been turned to ice, and her eyes remained unblinking. She staggered and Rhodey was there, holding her arm. 

She didn't dare look at his face. 

The fog of despair and realization washed over everyone, coating them, wrapping them up tightly. Not her. She would not be taken by acceptance. Pepper turned away from Rhodey with glossy eyes and shoved past everyone, ignoring their calls, rushing for the door.

The handle was cold as she grasped it and shoved it open, putting a hand to her mouth to stop from throwing up. She walked down the hallway, her legs carrying her faster and faster- into the room that she and Tony shared and over to the bed, her knees wobbling, her eyes wide and fearful.

A picture was resting on the bedside table of her family and she let out a sob, grabbing it and holding it to her chest before she sank to the ground, holding her stomach. Then she bit her lip as her shoulders trembled and she gave herself a headache from how hard she squeezed her eyes shut.

Her chest stung as she leaned back against the bed, unable to breath correctly as she stared at the picture of her entire world, the two people she cared about most, snatched away from her. With a horrible cry she traced their faces on the glass, brushing her thumb gently over their pictures and smiles, lump in her throat growing, stomach twisting. She stared the brown eyes of her son that reminded her so much of her husband.

The tears came now that she she was alone, and they dropped onto the picture frame as she grieved, doubled over in a sadness that went unparalleled to anything she had ever felt. 

Back in the room that Pepper had quickly left, Steve cleared his throat but it didn't strengthen his voice. It still cracked. "Are- are we sure?" 

The man in the black coat, one eye covered with a dark patch, pursed his lips. "They want us to go. Tony's body needs to be confirmed by one of us. And...something most have triggered an explosion in the suit. The kid...the kid was in the suit. There's nothing....they found the helmet and the arc reactor."

"God-" Bruce immediately found a trash can and threw up, retching as he grasped the sides and puked. 

Clint staggered to the couch and lowered himself with a horrible sound, his head falling steadily into his hands. 

Natasha's eyes widened and her chin dropped to her chest as she brought up a hand to cover her mouth.

A tear slid down Rhodey's cheek and he had to turn around, rubbing his hands over his head as he leaned forward, gripping the back of a chair before tossing it across the room with a horrible scream. It scraped and tumbled against the ground before it hit the wall and went still.

Steve stared at the ground, swallowing and opening his mouth- but nothing happened. He closed it and his eyes welled. 

Even Nick Fury flinched. 

The darkness crept over every single one of them. Over the entire room. People who had seen the horrors of this world, who had to do things that were unthinkable, who had been through war, pain, loss, and fear, at extreme levels...they all stayed frozen. 

If the world had known then, there's no doubt the world would have stopped. Tony Stark and his son were dead. And there was too much darkness for the Avengers to even see one another, two feet away. Not that they wanted to. No one even looked up. 

* * *

The woman raised her head and smiled at her neighbor as she fiddled with her keys at her door. A couple bags were looped over her arm and there were a couple piled around her feet, the plastic brushing against her ankle from the vent along the floor. "Bunch of sales at the corner store down the block today, Mrs. Janice," she called to the old lady who had just left her apartment down the hall. 

"Oh really!" the older lady called back, delighted, her eyes crinkling. "I'll make sure to stop by. You have a nice day, hon."

"You too," she waved lightly before unlocking the door and pushing it open with her foot. "Ben!" she called as she wobbled, bringing all the groceries in. "Little help would be nice." 

"I've got ya," the middle aged man chuckled as he got up from the couch, resting his phone on the table in front of him. He raced to her side to steady her and take some of the load, letting the bags slide to the floor before he carried them to the kitchen. "You went out for two things and you come back with seventy bags!"

"If you did the shopping that would be all fixed," she teased innocently and he laughed. She took off her coat and tossed it to him playfully. The man gave her a knowing smile and hung it up on hook by the front door which she had left open. "There's some more in the hallway you can get," she added sweetly, kicking off her shoes. She smiled and kissed him quickly before he tugged her by her waist.

The kiss deepened and she gasped, "Well someone's in a good mood."

"Maybe I want to get out of putting away the groceries," he said innocently and she laughed, twisting away before scooping up a bag for him and plopping it in his arms. She motioned for the back room and announced, "I'm gonna go get him up." She checked her watch and put a hand on her hip, "It's 2 pm for gosh sakes! Teenagers seem to sleep the day away."

"Two pm wake up isn't that bad," the man shrugged as he moved the rest of the groceries inside with his foot so he could shut and lock the door. "And it's not like he needs to study," he pointed out as he straightened. "The kid's a genius."

"Genius or not, sleep schedules are important for a growing kiddo," she said as her husband looped around the kitchen to bring in the rest of the bags.

"Growing? He's practically an adult. He's 17, Ben. Where does the time go?" she muttered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before completely giving up and redoing her pony tail, making sure her glasses stayed on her head as she did.

The woman made her way around the small apartment into the hallway with the bedrooms and slowly eased the handle open to the door on the far left. Peaking in, she smiled and crossed the room, moving some science books off the edge of the bed. The older boy's hair was over his eyes as he lay under the covers but the frown and crease marks on his forehead were still clear. He never did sleep soundly, for the past five and a half years he really hadn't. It was why he always slept in. Knit eyebrows were added proof of that. 

She brushed a hand over his hair as she sank down on the side of the mattress and whispered, "Pete? Peter, wake up."

The boy rolls over the minute her hand makes contact with his head and he blinks, startled, fear flashing in his chocolate eyes for just a second before he relaxes and yawns. "Hey, May."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii lovely readers. Ha...ha....so I didn't want to add any beginning notes in fear I was going to spoil something or write something or say ANYTHING that could give away anything that happened in this chapter. Because so freaking much happened I cant even keep up with it all. 8k of absolute chaos and then a nice cliffhanger for you at the end because i obviously love you guys so much.  
> So um  
> Apologies  
> are in order  
> I am very sorry. I WARNED YOU I TOLD YOU THIS WAS COMING but i am still very very sorry i have to admit i got choked up writing this many times so i feel your pain. i wrestled with this chapter for HOURS. I mean HOURS. You have no idea. But I am i dont want to say happy but happy about how this turned out.  
> All your questions will be answered, i can tell you that, so if you have them, but slip them in your pocket. Im trying to be creative with the lion king story in terms of how i tell it timeline wise so just...i gotchu guys dont worry  
> But once again I am very sorry for the emotional trauma i caused you. I mean I had the kid in the kindergarden crashing the plane into the ground as like a preamptive warning and we have been waiting for this to happen  
> SO DONT SAY I DIDNT WARN YAAA (to the tune of taylor swift)  
> Anyway........  
> um this is awkward now i can feel the glares. dont hate me. :)))))))))) to be fair simba never got to say goodbye to mufasa and mufasa had like no last thoughts at all soooo- no i will not try and justify what i just did hahaha  
> New chapter ASAP this one was a little early so im sorry if the next one takes some time but i am very excited for it just like i was with this one. this was actually one of my favs to write as messed up as that is haha. But next one wil be exciting too but I have a lot to plan out and get down. don't....die? before then?  
> OH ALSO YEAH ITS NOT ENTIRELY MY FAULT ITS LIKE HALF MY FAULT STILTSROSKO IS THE GENIUS BEHIND THIS PLOT SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO also round of applause to them for figuring out like the most heartbreaking story known to mankind *slow clap* *gets stuff thrown at me* point taken. <3  
> UMMMMMMMMM COFFEE IS GOOD I POUNDED THAT WHILE FINISHING THIS and i hope everyone is staying healthy and getting through school and life. What else can I say that deflects the fact that i just did the unthinkable in this chapter?  
> I LOVE YOU 3000  
> <3 <3 <3


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